


This little light of mine

by Adara_Rose



Series: northern lights [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Eventual Romance, Family Issues, Genderfluid Character, Genderqueer Character, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mpreg, Out of Character, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Queer Character, Sibling Incest, Slow Burn, Teen Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-01 13:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: Let us re-weave the loom of fate, and explore a road not taken.A very young Loki finds himself suddenly questioning everything he thought was his and held for truth.Add a 'helpful' fertility goddess and his life will never be the same.But Freya might just be right in that a summer in Vanaheim will do him a world of good.If nothing else, it will give him time to figure out how to tell Thor that he's pregnant.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I will be drawing on a lot of Norse Mythology in this one. Also, Hel is most definitely NOT Loki's sister. Who came up with that rot!?

It is known that the norns weave the web of fate. This has always been, and it will be so for till end of days.

But sometimes the norns are displeased by what they have woven, and will take the heavy scissors they use to cut men’s lives and cut the weave itself. Then, from the remains, they will reweave it anew, making something different. Sometimes, just to see what will happen.

They might even decide they liked the original better, and undo the weave once more.

Let us explore one of the re-weaves, as impassive as the Norns.

The king is in his counting house, the queen is in her garden.

And the princes of Asgard?

Well… that’s where it gets complicated.

 

Let us tell the story as it is woven, up until the moment heavy scissors cut the weave. Then, we shall explore a re-weave… one that, in the end, did not come to pass. For we all already know what came to pass.

But for now - _The queen is in the garden, eating bread and honey._

And one of her sons has something he needs to say...

 

* * *

 

“Mother.” there was something peculiar in the voice, a note she had never heard before, and Frigga put down her plate and looked up.

“Loki, dear” she smiled at her youngest, who had his trademark smirk firmly in place but the eyes were everything but smiling. Knowing him as well as she did, she could see the apprehension well hidden in his gaze.

“I need to talk to you.” A quick glance to the maids told the rest; _in private, mother, please._

“Let us walk” Frigga decided swiftly as she stood up, adjusting her shawl. Side by side, they disappeared down the nearest path, not heading anywhere in particular but away from curious ears.

 

As they walked, Frigga studied her son. He was so much like her, even though he had none of her blood. He had her moods, her cunning, her thoughtful, inquisitive nature. He was prone to secrets, quick to anger, and always had some mischief brewing. Just like her, when she was young.

 

But now he couldn’t meet her eyes, fidgeting under her gaze as if he was afraid of how he’d be received. He wore a tunic that was too large for him, she noted; one of Thor’s, if the embroidery along the edges were any indication. She had noticed him wearing them lately, almost disappearing in the too large shirts. As if he was hiding.

 

Eventually they came to stop by a little fountain that sent fresh water cascading into a little rock pool. It was one of Loki’s favourite places in her gardens; when he was little, she would often find him splashing in it.

“Please, child, tell me what troubles you.” Frigga said gently, turning the full weight of her mother’s worry on her son.

 

At that moment, he looked impossibly young as his lips started to tremble.

“I don’t know how” he said finally, “you mustn’t think I am lying.”

And that was a valid concern, Frigga knew. Silver-tongue, liesmith, honey-trap. All of it was true, what they whispered about her youngest. But she had always been able to tell when he was untruthful, and she could tell now. At least she liked to think so.

“I will not” she promised, giving him an encouraging smile. He looked down at the little rock pool.

“I used to splash in this pond” he said, disturbing the serene surface with the toe of his boot, “I told Thor it was mine, and he mustn’t have it, not the gardens. He could have the rest of Asgard.”

Frigga remembered. How her eldest had scowled and pouted and called for his mother.

“Aye. and that he may have everything but that which was yours, unless you gave it to him.”

Loki laughed, but there was no joy in it. He took a step back from the waters.

“He made me kiss him to seal my word.” He said, shaking his head slowly.

“You were children” Frigga smiled, fond. They had been so sweet.

“And now we are children no more.”  
“You will always be children to me.”

Loki glanced at her, green eyes apprehensive.

“We… have always done that.” he confessed, shyly. “A kiss to seal a vow.”

Frigga nodded slowly, not understanding his line of thought.

“You are very close” she agreed.

Loki’s hands moved like restless birds, a gesture she knew as him being lost for words. It was a gesture she saw less and less, these days.

 

They stood in silence, and she watched the flowers that she loved sway gently back and forth in the soft breeze. She wondered what he was thinking. There was a time when she had been able to tell just from the stiffness of his shoulders.

 

She could hear him draw a shuddering breath, and turned to him again. Waiting. Wondering if he was finally ready to tell her what was troubling him.

“Thor and I… we…” and once more his hands fluttered. But this time, she did not come to his rescue. Merely waited. “We have made vows.” he admitted, finally.

She frowned, not quite understanding what he was attempting to tell her.

Loki’s fluttering hands stilled, clenched.

“And we have sealed them, like when we were children. And I… I have given him what was mine.”

Frigga stared at him, horrified understanding slowly dawning.  
“What did you give him, Loki?” She asked, her voice low and emotionless. She did not want to hear the answer.

But he gave it anyway.

“Myself.”

 

* * *

 

Let us leave them there, momentarily, and speak of fate. For fate is a fickle thing, up until the moment it is woven into the grand design. The thread will shift and twist, as slippery as sand.

For instance, a young prince can flee Asgard, alone and lost, and wander further than he has ever dared. He can find himself in cold lands, the lands of the Ice Giants, and seek refuge in the home of a witch-woman on the edge of a small village.

 

Angrboda, for so is her name, will take him in - and take the unborn from his body and place a curse in its stead. For such is her magic; foul and dark, it gives nothing without taking of equal or greater measure. The young prince knows not the nature of the curse, but accepts it, knowing it lies only in his womb and not on the rest of him.

He will never know the nature of Angrboda’s curse, but we know that it is this: each soul that springs from his womb shall be monstrous, and as beasts shall ye know them. They shall be damned for daring to have sprung from cursed flesh, and eternally will they suffer for their existence.

Neither does he know, when he at last returns to Asgard, that that which he leaves behind lives. It is a half life, a cursed life, but life nonetheless. A life in shadows, half here and half… elsewhere.

He does not know that the child will grow up to become the Queen of the Dead. Not yet. He will learn, in time. _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down._

 

And yet, we are not quite at the moment where the weave changes, where the scissors cut, where fate is rewritten. First, a queen must speak words she never thought she had it in her heart to utter.

 

* * *

 

The word ripped through the tranquility like a bolt of lightning, even though it was barely whispered. It ruined everything, Frigga felt as the earth disappeared beneath her feet. Suddenly, so many things made sense. She remembered, and she understood. The glances. The secretive smiles. The eldest son’s devotion to the youngest. The whispers. Her eyes strayed of their own volition to the oversized shirt, hiding her youngest son’s body from her searching gaze.

It was impossible, it must be. And yet, was it not she who had comforted Loki during his first monthly bleeding, when he cried his confusion into her shoulder?

“Mother” he begged, “say something.”

But Frigga stared at his abdomen as if she was staring into the depths of Muspelheim and did not speak. Se could not speak, for what words were there?  
“Please” Loki’s eyes were wide with fear. “I know not what to do. I haven’t told anyone, not even Thor-”

Frigga’s hand was in the air before she sensed it moving, striking his cheek with all the fury of a devastated mother.

And then she uttered words that came from somewhere deep inside her, words she hadn’t known she was able of speaking. Words she regretted the moment she said them, but by then it was too late. Cruel, horrible words she didn’t mean and would never be able to recant.

“Do not dare to speak his name, _you filthy jotun whore._ ”

 

* * *

 

_And all Asgard’s horses and all Asgard’s men_

_Cannot put what was broken, together again._


	2. Chapter 2

Loki ran. It was a headless flight, thoughtless, aimless. Just away, away from everything he had thought he’d known but was now splintering. His cheek burned from his mother’s hand, his mind reeling from the strike. She had hit him. His mother, whom he’d thought he could trust, had struck him. He couldn’t fathom it. And her damning words - he couldn’t even think of them. His mother, his mother, and she had called him a whore.

 

Icy tears welled up in his eyes, freezing to glittering shards of ice on his cheeks, turning his sight fuzzy and unclear. Unable to see where he was running, he found himself hurtling headlong straight into someone who was sent tumbling to the ground with a cry of pain, pulling him along with them.

 

His tears made him unable to see much past red and blue, but suddenly a pair of warm arms were around him like a mother ought to embrace her son when he was distressed, and he buried his face in the soft blue and wept like his heart was breaking.

 

To be fair, it was.

 

* * *

 

Freya Njordsdattir had been minding her own business, picking flowers in the queen’s gardens to put in a vase on the dining table in the hall she shared with her brother when she was in Asgard. Being vanir, she was most at home in the gardens; they reminded her of the vast fields of home. And queen Frigga had always been most generous to her, agreeing to let her wander as she wished and pick whatever flowers caught her fancy. 

 

She was most cross to be crashed into, dropping her basket and twisting her ankle in the process. And she would probably have given the cad a piece of her mind, but whoever it was was clinging to her like a limpet and sobbing so desperately she forgot her ire in favour of distress at the obvious grief in the cries.

 

So she didn't yell, or threaten to gut them, or whack them over the head with her flower basket. Instead, she sat up as gingerly as she could and wrapped her arms around her assailant, rocking them slowly as one would a frightened child. Freya had no children of her own, but she had the instincts of a mother and this youth’s sorrow tore at her heart like it had been her own.

 

After some time, Freya had no idea of how long, the desperate sobs seemed to calm enough for her to disentangle the youth’s arms from hers, and get a good look at them.

 

“Prince Loki?” She squeaked, alarmed. His face, which she had always considered rather nice to look at, was splotchy with crying and his nose was quite red. His eyes were puffy and little shards of ice dug deep grooves into his skin as they slipped from his eyes, falling on her blue dress with a soft tinkling noise and melting back into water.

 

“By the trees, what has happened? Is it the allfather?” She was quite fond of Odin; he was quite a lot like her own king, back home. Well, Odin was harsher, and could be cruel, while Eirikki did not have a cruel bone in his body. It made him a good king, but not so much a warrior. 

 

Loki shook his head, sending more ice shards flying. Some of them got on Freya’s skin, where they stung most harshly. 

“No, it is not father, I- forgive me-” 

“Hush now. You must not apologize for weeping. Help me up.” 

Once on her feet, Freya discovered that her ankle was quite badly sprained and would not carry her. 

“You will support me back to my hall” she decided, “and once there we will have warm drinks and you shall share your woes with me. Perhaps I can help you, somehow.”

 

And much to her surprise, the boy she knew as headstrong and willful meekly did as he was told.

Left on the path were a dropped basket, picked flowers strew about haphazardly, and a few shards of icy tears melting swiftly in the warmth of the sun.

 

* * *

 

As they entered Freya’s hall Sessrúmnir, Loki still supporting a hobbling Freya, they were immediately accosted by two identical blonde girls with looks of concern on their faces.

“My lady-” they chorused as they curtsied in perfect unison, but Freya waved her hand dismissively.

“I’m fine, just my ankle. Dagrun, fetch Eir. Dagmar, make us some of my special tea. And something to eat. Go, girls!”

 

The two blondes disappeared in a flurry of blue skirts, and Freya smiled at Loki.

“Worriers, the both of them. I also suspect them of being aunties little songbirds, reporting everything back to her. We will sit over there.” She nodded her head in the direction of a finely carved wooden bench along the wall, covered in soft furs, and a long low table with similar carvings.

 

After they had been seated, and Freya had propped up her foot on a small footstool that one of the blond girls -Dagmar? Loki couldn’t tell them apart- had fetched, she gave him a very sharp look.

“Now, I am rather confident it is not the way of the Aesir to run around like mad men and accost people the way you did earlier. But seeing you were in distress, I shall let it pass on the condition that you tell me what is the matter.”

Loki looked down at his hands, not wanting to reply. Freya frowned, but figured that a cup of tea would loosen his tongue and decided to wait.

 

Eventually, one of the blond maids returned with a tray bearing mugs, thick slices of fine wheat bread, a small pot of butter, and a bowl of fresh fruit. She placed the tray in front of them, curtsied once more, and disappeared into the gloom of the hall, to where Loki could not tell. It did not really matter; Freya was pouring him a fragrant dark tea and offering sustenance. She still said nothing, seemingly content to wait him out as she daintily spread golden butter on the bread. 

 

Having not had either breakfast or lunch from nerves, he was suddenly ravenous and greedily ate his fill of the sweet, soft bread. It was similar to that which was served in his father’s hall, but spiced in a way that made it a most unusual treat.

 

Once they had finished, and not a morsel of bread or fruit remained, Freya put away her mug of tea and gave him another one of those sharp looks.

 

“Loki, I know we do not know each other well. But I have learnt that sometimes a stranger is the best confidante. And I promise you on my mother’s bones that whatever you tell me will not be passed on.”

 

Loki hesitated, bit his lip. He remember his mother’s face earlier, and feared telling her. But he needed help, and it was clearly not going to come from family. 

So he hung his head low, and in a soft voice that was barely heard over the distant crackling of the hearth, he told her everything, hoping she’d believe him.

 

Once he had finished, Freya’s hand found his and squeezed it tight.

“Have you told Thor?” she asked gently, “about the baby.”

Loki looked up, shocked.

“How did you-” he had very carefully left that out, after all!

Freya just smiled that damn all knowing smile of hers.

“Fertility goddess. I've known since the last grand feast. Have you told him?”   
Loki shook his head firmly. He could not possibly tell Thor.

“He’ll want to marry me.”   
“And is that such a bad thing? You have given him your everything, have you not? Is it not fair, he does the same?”

“I am his brother. The Aesir would never permit it.”

“Well, maybe the Aesir are wrong.”

He stared at her in awe. Did she not know that his father’s birds could hear everything?

“Loki. I am vanir. There are very few things concerning sex that can shock me. My father was my mother’s twin, you know.”

“He is?” 

“Aye. And Frey and I sprung from our mother’s seed, and grew in our father’s womb. I see not the issue; this is a child of love, is it not?”

“Aye.”

“Then it is a good thing. It should be celebrated.”

 

Loki shook his head.

“I can’t tell anyone. I- I was going to ask mother help me get rid of it.”

“And what did she say?”

“She…” Loki licked his lips, didn’t want to repeat the words. He was not yet angry, but Freya suspected he would be in time. She gave him an encouraging smile.   
“She… called me a jotun whore.”

Freya made a face.

“That was a really bad way of telling you.” she muttered, more to herself.

 

Loki stared at her in disbelief.

“You mean it’s true? I am- I am  _ jotun?!  _ Why wasn’t I told?”

“Because we couldn’t. We were… well, bound. To silence. Until the allfather or the queen told you or you found out yourself.”

“WE?” Loki jumped to his feet, sending furs flying. “Who are we? Who else knows?”

“Well, Frey and Father. And Laufey, of course. I think Heimdall knows, but I’ve never asked him.”

“Who- who is Laufey?”

Freya looked him straight in the eye and tore his world asunder.

“Your father. The King of Jotunheim.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Eir came to heal Freya’s ankle, Loki had paced in agitation for so long Freya had started to complain about him making her dizzy. It took the combined wiles of both goddesses to keep him from storming out to confront the king right that minute, and to sit down and have more tea.

“Think of the baby” Eir told him sternly over the rim of her mug. 

Loki sat down, but immediately stood up again, clearly too upset to stay still.

“They’ve been lying to me my whole  _ life!”  _ He snarled. “Why!”

“Love makes people act like idiots.” Freya replied dryly as she tried to stand on her freshly healed leg. “I should know.”

She took a few wobbly steps, then smiled at Eir.

“Thank you. Would you mind looking Loki over? All this stress-”

The healing goddess nodded, then took a strong grip of Loki’s arm as he paced past her.

“Still, little prince. I need to check on the little one.”

Loki stood still long enough for her sejdr to wash over him like warm water, then started pacing again, muttering angrily to himself.

“The child is fine” Eir said to Freya, figuring Loki wasn’t listening. “But he really ought not to be so distressed.”

“I’ll calm him.” Freya replied. “Well, I’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

In fact, it took many hours for Freya to calm Loki to a state of mind where he could be reasoned with.

“You must not act in rage” she said, as she held him fast and forced him to look her in the eye, “or you do things you will regret. I bet your mother is heartbroken over her cruelty by now.”

Loki snarled. “My mother-”

But Freya shook her head firmly.   
“Hold your tongue, boy. Whatever her faults, she raised you from infancy and loves you dearly. Do not speak against her in anger. Do not repeat her mistakes.”

Loki stared back at her, and she could see the numbness from earlier give way to anger, confusion, and despair.   
“What do I do, then?” He whispered. “My whole life is a lie.”

Freya faltered, not knowing what to say.

Finally, she asked softly, “what do you want to do?”

Loki thought, his gaze somewhere far away.

“I… I want to meet him. My father. I want to go to Jotunheim.”

Freya shook her head.

“I can’t recommend it. If you leave Asgard, that’s the first place they’ll search.”

“I don’t care!” Loki yelled, ripping himself free from Freya’s grasp.

“Loki!” She called to him. “Do not act in anger. Come with me to Vanaheim, to my aunt’s house. You can rest there, clear your head and think. And you and the baby will be completely safe.”

He hesitated. Vanaheim? He had never been. Never met any vanir but Freya and Frey and their father.

But Vanaheim was neutral ground. He could hide there, lick his wounds and come up with a plan. Figure out what to do. About Thor, about his mother, about his heritage… about his child.

“When do we leave?” he asked hoarsely.

“At dawn” Freya offered. He nodded once.

“Good.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People named in this part that you might not know (* indicates OC):  
> Laufey - king of Jotunheim, Loki’s biological father  
> Heimdall - guardian of Bifrost, gatekeeper to Asgard  
> Dagmar - maidservant of Freya *  
> Dagrun  - maidservant of Freya *  
> Eirikki - king of Vanaheim *  
> Eir - aesir goddess of healing


	3. Chapter 3

Loki spent an anxious night on a pile of soft furs that one of Freya’s blonde handmaidens gathered for him, but he didn’t really sleep. His cheek had long since stopped hurting from Frigga’s hand, but his mind was reeling. His mother - who wasn’t his mother - had hit him and called him the foulest words he’d ever heard.

And where did this revelation leave him and Thor? He turned over listlessly, pulling the soft blanket tighter around his shoulders. He didn’t know where he stood with Thor now. Before, it had been painful but easy. He had only dared to love the thunderer in the dark, under the covers, where Thor was soft and warm and gentle and _his._ Where there were kisses and touches and awed whispers of “you are so beautiful” whispered into his skin.

The moment Thor found out about the child he would want to do the honorable thing. He’d marry Loki within the day if no one stopped him. Loki wasn’t sure he wanted that. They had never spoken of affection beyond that of devoted brothers. He couldn’t bear it if that was all he ever had from his husband, when he wanted so much more.

Perhaps it was better if he got rid of the baby in Vanaheim. Surely Freya would know of a safe way to arrange it, or know someone who did. And then he’d return to Asgard and confront Odin about his lies. Without his child.

Loki turned over again, eyes burning from lack of sleep as he stared into the gloom of Sessrúmnir and tried to make an impossible choice. What was he going to do?

 

* * *

 

A hand shaking his shoulder woke Loki abruptly from uneasy dreams. He had been running after someone who was always one step ahead, someone who kept moving further away even though he ran as fast as he could. He didn’t need to see the person to know who it was. Thor.

“Quick” a woman with blond hair whispered, “my lady says you must leave immediately, her sejdr cannot distract the watcher birds for too long.”

Loki stumbled from his resting pace reluctantly, but felt slightly better went the nausea that had haunted him for months did not make an appearance.

Instead, he accepted the hooded cloak she offered him and followed her out of the hall, down a short path to where the river that ran through Asgard split into two sections.

Freya stood on the river bank, her arms raised and head tilted back. She wore a plain green dress and the Brisingamen shining with power around her neck. Behind her, barely touching the water’s surface, lay a ship.

It was a ship unlike anything Loki had ever seen in his life; it was long and narrow and seemed built but wood that was so thin it was see-through. It had high sails of a fabric that sparkled like moonbeams on water, and the keel laid more out of the water than in it.

When Freya spotted Loki, she nodded towards the ship but did not speak. It seemed that whatever spell she was casting it was not finished, and knowing the risks of interrupting sejdr Loki chose to silently step onboard.

The thin wood was surprisingly sturdy beneath his feet, and there was a small tent of furs raised on one end. Six times two oars already lowered into the water, but Loki could see no rowers. He sat down on the smooth wood in the bow and waited quietly for Freya to finish casting her spell. The warmth of the early morning sun and the soft murmurs of the river soon put him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

_Thor’s mouth was like fire, scorching and ravenous on his cock and Loki keened with want, fingers clutching at broad shoulders._

_“Brother” he gasped, “brother!”_

_There was a muffled groan as Thor took him in deeper, two blunt fingers pressing between Loki’s legs, slipping into his dripping cunt. He groaned, back arching as he spread his legs further, accommodating the larger youth seemingly intent on pleasing him. Thor’s long fingers pushed in deep, twisting and stroking the pulsing walls of his sex until Loki didn’t know what felt better as he fucked up into Thor’s mouth, down onto his fingers. Thor’s short beard rubbed deliciously against the inside of his thighs, just rough enough to keep him grounded as the thunderer sent him spiralling higher and higher in ecstasy._

_Thor let Loki’s cock slip from his mouth with an obscene pop and looked up at him with burning eyes._

_“By the tree” the blond panted, “I cannot get enough of you.”_

_“Thor” Loki groaned in reply as Thor twisted his fingers just so. “Fuck me, for pity’s sake.”_

_“Nay, it is not safe for the baby.” Loki didn’t have time to wonder who had told Thor his secret, for his mind stopped working as Thor once more took him into his mouth as he added a third finger to the digits seemingly intent on driving Loki mad._

 

* * *

 

When Loki woke, it was to uncomfortably sticky breeches and Freya’s amused smile. It made him feel embarrassed and filthy, not sure if he wanted a bath or to run back to Asgard, and hide in Thor’s arms. Except he wasn’t sure that Thor would allow the embrace once he knew.

“There you are” she said, “I’m sorry about this morning; Heimdall might be convinced to keep secrets, but Hugin and Munin are not. Did you sleep well?”

Loki nodded slowly, stretching his stiff limbs. “Yes, thank you.”

“Good. Here, eat some breakfast, you must be famished.” She offered him dried meat and more of the bread they’d eaten the previous day, and Loki found himself forgetting his embarrassment in favour of ravenous hunger.

After he had finished, Freya offered him clean clothes and a bucket of water to wash off with. Then she kindly looked in another direction as he changed. The shirt was a bit snug over his rounded abdomen, but not enough to be uncomfortable. It did, however, make it clear how large he was. Loki stroked the taut skin, thinking of the child growing inside. The child he had made with the one he loved most in the world. Suddenly, he felt Thor’s absence most keenly.

“Do you know how far along you are?” Freya's voice cut into his solemn thoughts, nearly making him jump out of his skin.

He shook his head.

“A few months.”

“When was the last time you coupled with Thor?”

Loki blushed at the bluntness of her question.

“A few days.”

Freya made a thoughtful face.

“So that's no help.” she said, more to herself than him. “Did he say anything about..” She didn't finish the sentence but looked at his stomach.

“He… he said he thought I was beautiful. And that now there is more of me to love.” It felt silly to repeat the words that had made him so happy then.

“He is a good man, your Thor.” Freya smiled at him.

Loki shook his head. “he's not my Thor.”

“Does he know that?”

Loki looked away, his eyes wandering over the ship. That's when he noticed something. “who's rowing?”

Freya seemed amused by the question but let him change the subject.

“Skidbladnir needs no rowers. She is a magic ship. Frey lent her to me.”

“Oh. I see. Will it be long till we reach Vanaheim?”

“No. I expect us to be there for the evening meal.”

 

* * *

 

Back in Asgard, Thor was staring blearily at the ceiling of his bedroom. In the bright sunlight of the morning, the anxiety that had gripped him when he realised Loki was missing eating him alive.

He wondered how long Loki had been gone; he had not realised until his brother failed to show for his evening meal, but could not be found in neither his rooms or the library. Odin, as worried as his son, had called for a realm-wide search that was not to be stopped until his youngest had been found.

Thor had of course been amongst the seekers. But after several hours of fruitless hunting, his mother had ordered him to bed. She had told him that he was of no use to the seekers when he was exhausted and had barely any control over his sejdr.

He had wanted to keep searching for his brother, but knew better than to argue with her. So he had obeyed, even if highly reluctant, and gone to his rooms. But sleep had been impossible; every time he closed his eyes he saw Loki, in more danger than the last time. What could possibly have happened to him? Had he been abducted? Injured? Was someone hurting him as Thor lay sleepless in his grand bed, the bed that he was so used to share with Loki?

Or perhaps it was something he had done. Thor knew full well that he wasn’t the most gentle of men; he had been called brutish, and even though it had been said with malicious intent there was truth in it. But Loki liked him how he was, didn’t he? He had said so at least. But then again, they had been in bed at the time, the younger prince soft and warm in Thor’s arms. It had been one of those mornings when Loki allowed his talk of the future they would have. How happy they’d be. Of how beautiful Loki would be in his wedding robes the day they were handfasted.

Thor rose, his limbs aching from exhaustion, and looked mournfully at the untouched pillow that laid next to his.

“Where are you?” he whispered into the stillness of the room, “what has happened to you, my dearest?”

 _Why have you fled from me,_ his heart whispered.

 

* * *

 

The sun was beginning to set when Skidbladnir sailed into the small harbour that Freya said belonged exclusively to the king of Vanaheim.

Loki was rather unsteady on his feet as he stepped onto the wooden dock, but Freya's hand on his arm soon calmed his queasy stomach. She led him up a narrow gravel path, through a copse of tall trees and then he saw the houses.

They were nothing like what he knew from Asgard; they seemed to have sprouted from the ground, weaving around trees that spread their wide branches to form roofs of the little houses. Instead of doors, finely woven quilts hung over the entrances. Each house seemed to belong to a group of six or seven, circling a communal fire.

“Welcome to Vanaheim” Freya smiled as she escorted him through what Loki assumed to be a small village, past the tree-houses and up towards where he could see a grove of trees upon a hill.

The people of Vanaheim, the few that Loki saw at least, looked at them with thinly veiled criousty. And what a people the were! Some were as tall as giants. A few vanir, each no higher than Loki’s knees, were having a gathering on a large flat rock. As he and Freya passed, the little winged beings stopped their bickering over a cluster of bright red berries to wave at Freya, who happily waved back.

“Sprites” she told Loki, “beings of the air.”

As they neared the hill, Loki saw that what he had assumed to be a large grove of trees was in fact a building, similar in its structure to the others but much larger. It was also the first house he had seen to have an actual door, made of finely carved wood. In front of it stood two vanir, both as tall as the door itself and with skin so darkly green they at first appeared black. They each held a massive spear, made out of similar wood to the door.

“Lady Freya” said the left guard as they uncrossed their spears and stepped aside, allowing Freya to open the doors.

And then, she unceremoniously ushered Loki into the King’s hall.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki meets the Queen of Vanaheim, everyone has tea, and Frigga is starting to realize that she has made a terrible mistake.

The light in the King’s hall was bright, almost uncomfortably so, as it filtered through the green leaves and branches that composed the ceiling. It illuminated a tall, wide room that really had no business inside a building like that - truly advanced sejdr must be at work in order for it to fit.

At the far end of the hall, stood two thrones that, like the hall, seemed to have grown from the earth. Branches and tendrils had twisted themselves into two elegant chairs, high-backed and with armrests so thin and delicate they looked as if they would break if you rested your arms on them for too long.

In the taller of the chairs sat a man that was not, a man that seemed as ephemeral as spring. If you imagine everything good about summer and severe about winter wrapped up together and clothed in an elegant robe, crowned by massive antlers, you would still have no idea.

At seeing Freya and Loki approaching him over a floor that was mostly composed of tightly packed dirt, the man with the massive antlers stood and smiled at them in a way that made you think of ice shattering as the sun shone on it.

“Freya” he said in a voice that boomed like distant thunder. Freya beamed and ran to him like a little girl to her father, throwing her arms around the tall man with a little whoop of “Uncle ‘Riki!”

Loki stopped a few feet away from the happy scene, not sure what to do. He had never actually met monarchs of any really other than Asgard, but he had practiced courtly manners to great extent… if Freya would just stop hugging what was obviously the king (the crown gave him away), he’d be able to make a good impression.

Eventually, the King seemed content to let go of Freya, and looked instead at Loki. His gaze was a lot like the Allfather’s, giving the impression of seeing everything and judging you for it. But his judgement was in your favour, as if he really thought you were a thoroughly decent person and was baffled that you hadn’t realised it yourself.

“I am King Eirikki of Vanaheim” the King eventually introduced himself, holding out a gnarled hand for Loki to shake.

Loki took it, finding the fingers spindly thin. He bent down and kissed the air a mere inch above it.

“Loki of…” Loki heitated, bit his lip briefly. “I am Loki. And I am honoured.”

King Eirikki shook his head so a few small leaves disengaged themselves from his hair and danced away on an unseen breeze.

“Rot” he said as he pulled his hand back, “you are among friends, child. None of that formal nonsense. My name is Eirikki. But come, come, you must be tired and hungry. A room has been prepared for you. Freya, will you be staying at my hall tonight?”

“Yes, Uncle. And tomorrow, I must go back to Asgard. My time there is not yet at an end.”

“You aunt will be pleased.” Was Eirikki’s verdict as he moved further into the hall, through a door that Loki had not seen before. “Now come. Dinner.”

 

* * *

 

Far away, in Asgard, another King was in his Hall. But this was not a joyous night, but one fraught with fears and concerns. Odin sat upon his throne, the place where his sejdr was at its strongest and searched with increasing fervor for his missing child.

But it seemed that no matter how Odin intently gazed, he could not see his son in any of the worlds that he could view. That meant only one thing; Loki was in another realm, one that was hidden from his farsight according to the laws of old. His heart clenched at the realization that this meant that Loki was in grave danger - whether, in the land of the dead, the land of the Vanir, or the land of the ice giants, he could not tell.

For the first time in many centuries, Odin found himself praying.

 

* * *

 

“So you are Loki,” said the matronly woman with dark hair piled high on her head. She gave Loki a very unimpressed look, then turned to pull a loaf of bread from the oven.

“Yes, ma’am” Loki replied, wondering why this woman was important enough for Freya to have hissed at him to _“make a good impression”_ before leaving him to enter the kitchens alone.

In the massive room, full of pots and pans and the heat of the hearth, Loki felt very small and lonely and fiercely missed home.

“So polite” she tsked, then handed him a roll of fresh bread and a mug of tea. “Sit. Eat. Then we will talk.” her tone brokered no argument and he obeyed, sinking down onto the long bench by the wall. It felt good to get off his feet, and his sore back was grateful for the respite.

The bread roll turned out to be carefully spiced, and full of dried fruits. It was delicious, and since he was always hungry he devoured it almost instantly. The matronly woman smiled indulgently and gave him another one, this time smothered in fresh butter.

“Nice to see a young man with a healthy appetite,” she said as she undid her apron strings and sat down on a small footstool next to the table. Her gaze was the same sharp one as King Eirikki, and Loki wondered about the relation.

“I am Vigdis,” the woman said as if she had read his thoughts, “Eirikki is my husband and Freya is my niece. Njord is my brother.”

Loki froze, his mug of tea halfway to his mouth. _This_ was the queen of Vanaheim? She looked like the cook back home in Asgard. She even had the same no-nonsense airs.

Vigdis smirked at him.

“Not what you expected, hm.” It wasn’t a question, but Loki blushed and tried to answer.

“N-no, ma’am.”

“I get that a lot,” she said dryly, looking at the empty plate in front of him. “I’ll get you another roll.” She got to her feet. “And some more tea, for both of us. Then, we'll talk.”

 

* * *

 

Frigga sat alone in her chambers, exhausted from the maelstrom within. For two days they had now searched, with increasing desperation, for Loki. But there were precious few places left in Asgard to search now, and not a trace of the boy had been found.

Being who she was, Frigga had a piece of fine fabric spread over her lap, and her needles waited for her hands. But she sat still, hands useless, eyes bright with tears she would not let fall. Her boy, alone out there in a cruel, uncaring world. And it was her fault that he had fled. Her hand still stung from the impact to his cheek, aching with shame. She had not known she had such cruelty within her until her hand had already been raised. A wrath she had never known before had made her cruel, and she had directed that cruelty to someone who did not, and never had, deserved it.

Loki had not asked to be born, after all. He had not asked Odin to betray his marriage vows for a pair of pretty green eyes, to forget about her in the arms of a youth with blue skin. No, Loki had no fault in his creation. And yet, it was him she had punished. Had named him for what she had sworn he would never know he was - a jotun bastard. And now he was gone, and she knew not where. If anyone was kind to him. If anyone helped him with the child under his heart. She was his mother. And she had driven him away.

Frigga let the fabric slip to the floor where it lay unnoticed, tears spilling over without permission and slipping gently down her cheeks. Suddenly she felt so very alone.

 

* * *

 

After having finished two mugs of tea and a total of three delicious fruit rolls, Loki was comfortably full and sleepy, almost sluggish.

“Now dear,” said Vigdis and gave him a very sharp look over her mug, “you will tell me everything about why you left Asgard and how you came to be here.”

And there was something in her tone, or perhaps it was the warmth of the fire, or the way his stomach felt so full and heavy and his child slept peacefully under his heart. Loki licked his lips and began.

“We… you see, that’s Thor and I…”

 

* * *

 

Freya was very pleased with her night; she’d beat uncle Eirikki soundly at Mills, had some excellent tea, and spent more time than strictly necessary cuddled up with her brother and his wife in a nice warm pile and listened to them making cooing noises at each other. They were her favorite pair of lovers, really. Although perhaps one day the princes of Asgard might be in the running for that title.

She sat down on the little footstool Vigdis had given her when she was a girl and started braiding her long, red hair. It was the only way to keep it from tangling as she slept.

But as she sat braiding, Freya started to feel that she had forgotten something important. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.

It bothered her all through her braiding, and while she changed into her nightgown. It wasn’t until she curled under the blankets and blew out her candle that it came to her and she sat up straight in horror.

_The tea._

She hadn’t warned Loki not to drink the tea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn more about the tea, meet another jotun, and our timeline progresses.

It was the late night, and Vigdis carefully closed the door to the room she had assigned to young Loki. He slept, peaceful, and the Man in the Moon was watching his dreams. 

Vigdis turned and waited. She did not have to wait long until a positively incensed redhead came storming towards her.

“Aunt Vigdis!” Freyja shrieked, and Vigdis hushed her.

“Come now, child, you mustn’t wake the sleepers.” Freyja looked like she wanted to argue, but let herself be ushered into a nearby room with thick walls.

“Now dear-” Vigdis began, but Freyja wasn’t listening. 

“Did you give him tea, aunt?” She demanded. 

“Yes, dear. He had two mugs full.” Freyja’s high face color turned stark white.

“What did you make him do?” she asked, gazing imploringly at the ever tranquil Queen of Vanaheim.

“Nothing, dear. He did tell me a curious story, though.” She leveled her errant niece with a very sharp look.

“Now, dear, running about in your nightgown and causing a ruckus is one thing. But why did you not tell me that you were bringing us the lost son of King Laufey?”

* * *

It was early morning, Sol just barely stumbling his way over the horizon and yawning his way across the heavens. In the Grand Hall of Vanaheimr, only the servants were awake. But that peace was about to be thoroughly ruined, as the young prince of Asgard had just finished his morning business and turned to examine himself in the mirror.

The result of this examination was a hysterical, terrified scream that ripped through the tranquility of the morning and effectively ruined it.

Neither king Eirikki or his queen bothered putting on any more clothes than their sleepwear as they flew out of the royal bed and hurried out into the hallway, the scream turning into hysterical wails as they approached. They were met in the doorway by a very disheveled, confused Freyja who still had her hair in braids, making her look like a child.

“What is going on?” She demanded, but Vigdis pushed past her into the guest room.

“Loki, dear?” She called, “do please stop screaming, you’re upsetting the servants.”

“Look at me!” He bawled back, “What is wrong with me?”

Freyja and Vigdis exchanged looks but allowed Eirikki to be the first behind the curtain where the wails had been coming from. The king had to momentarily stop and untangle his horns from the flimsy fabric, but then he disappeared and they could hear him murmur soothingly to the very upset aesir. Eventually, the cries tapered off into a very heavy silence. Freyja tapped her foot with impatience, but Vigdis stood still and calm and simply waited. 

After many more minutes, Eirikki pulled aside the curtain and they could see what had Loki so upset.

He was blue, a lovely shade that made Freyja think of dark winter skies. His face had elongated slightly to appear more elfin, and his ears had changed shape. He also stood a bit taller than he had the night before. His stomach was heavily extended and stretched around his child, in parts making the skin an almost translucent blue with the strain. 

“Now I see why you are so upset” Freyja murmured, admiring the long legs bare under the robe Eirikki had swept around the boy when he seemed unable to do it herself.

Vigdis smiled.

“And now you are truly honest with us.” She said, then turned to Freyja.

“Let’s leave the poor thing to gather himself, while we fetch breakfast. Then we shall talk, and eat.”

As the door closed behind them, Freyja heard Loki ask plaintively,

“What has happened to me?”

* * *

Breakfast over, Loki was reasonably calm. Well, as calm as one could be after having had your whole world ripped to shreds and turned over in the span of one morning.

“Thanks” he sighed, reluctantly accepting a mug of tea from Freyja. He stared at it it suspiciously.

“It’s not the special kind” she promised him, glaring at her aunt who did not seem to notice.

“I am sorry, Loki dear,” Vigdis said instead, “but I needed to make sure you did not spin me any lies. I did not expect the glamour to break.”

“It was on it’s last,” Eirikki said as he helped himself to more porridge, “I saw it shredding last night.”

“And you didn't say?” Vigdis raised an eyebrow. Eirikki shrugged, spooning jam into his bowl.

“Everything worked out, didn’t it?” Well, no arguments there, really.

“So I am Jotun” Loki whispered, looking down at his blue hands. 

“You knew that already” Freyja reminded him gently, “now you just… can see it.”

Loki’s lip wobbled. What was Thor going to say? Would he still want him, want their child?

“There now dear” Vigdis patted his hand comfortingly, “it will be all right. Today, we shall see your jordemor and arrange for the birth. It is not long, now.”

“My what?” Loki was confused. He had never heard of anyone having an earth-mother.

“Your jordemor. Gerdr will be happy to help you through the birth.”

Loki blinked in bewilderment but finally started drinking his tea. “Who is Gerdr?”

* * *

 

Gerdr Gymirsdattir turned out to be Jotun. Her skin was a darker blue than Loki’s, and she stood as tall as Eirikki with hair that gleamed golden as the sun. Next to her, her husband Freyr looked like a child. He barely reached her shoulder, but the way he looked at her was nothing short of adoration.

“Welcome,” she said and offered tea and little cakes, spread with jam and topped with a dollop of cream. “Do help yourselves.”

“Don’t mind if I do?” said Freyja, happily tucking in. “Gerdr makes the best hotcakes,” she added at Loki’s hesitance.

Gerdr looked at Loki’s stomach.

“Vigdis has asked me to serve as jordemor at your birth,” she said, “how far away is it?”

“Less than a fortnight” Vigdis replied calmly, “more than a week.”

Loki paled. That soon? He turned anxious eyes at Vigdis, who seemed as undisturbed as always. 

“Of course I will help,” Gerdr said, misinterpreting his apprehension. “I would be honored. Do you know what you’re having?”

Once more, it was Vigdis who spoke before Loki could.

“A girl child,” she said, helping herself to a steaming mug of tea. Loki eyed it with suspicion, not wanting to try it. The last time he’d had special tea he’d poured his heart out to a woman he didn’t know. He wasn’t keen on doing it again.

“Have you no children?” Loki asked, wanting to change the subject from his own. Gerdr looked impossibly sad for a moment, but it was Freyr who answered.

“It… hasn’t happened for us” he said quietly, taking his wife’s hand. “Perhaps in time.”

Gerdr looked down at where Freyr’s golden hand covered her blue.

“I can’t” she whispered, so much grief in her voice it made Loki want to cry. “I have learned to accept that.”

But she hadn’t, Loki realized as he looked at the couple. Not at all. The longing to be a mother shone out of Gerdr like a glowing candle within her breast.

“And the father?” Freyr asked, clearly wanting to change the subject.

“He is in Asgard” for once Loki was allowed to answer for himself, “he… doesn’t know.”

“And when will you tell him?” Gerdr asked, a frown marring her elegant features.

Loki looked away, unable to answer her.

* * *

(one week passes)

* * *

 

Loki sat on the edge of his bed and let Freyja brush his hair. It had been lazy days, full of resting, reading, and learning to play board games. Freyja had pouted for nigh on one hour the first time he beat her in Mills, and he still felt pleased about it.

Now he was tired, but content, his stomach heavy from delicious food straight from Vigdis’ kitchen. Somewhere outside his window, sheep were bleating and a sweet tune was played on a flute.

“Jon is in town tonight” Freyja murmured, the strokes from the brush almost putting Loki to sleep.

“Who?” He asked in the same soft voice.

“Jon and his sheep. I can hear them. Don’t listen unless you’re lying down, they’ll put you right to sleep.”

“How about you?”

“I’m Vanir. It takes a lot more than the bleating of sömnfår to put me out.”

She put down the brush and started braiding. It was almost as soothing as the distant bleating or the strokes of the brush. But there was one thing niggling at the back of Loki’s mind, keeping him awake.

“Freyja?” he asked, finally.

“Hmm?”

“Why can’t Gerdr give Freyr children? She’s Jotun, isn’t she?”

Freyja’s hands stilled, momentarily. Then she started again, but her motions were slow and distracted.

“You are two-sexed” she began slowly, “like most jotun?”

Loki nodded, getting a tug at his hair for his trouble.  _ Hold still _ .

“Gerdr is not,” Freyja said quietly, sounding as sad as Gerdr had. “She was born one-sex and not the one who carries.”

It took a moment before Loki understood. Gerdr, with her long hair and pretty white dress and fine jewelry, had a male’s body. She might be a she, but she couldn’t have children. Not even with a fertility god. 

They didn’t speak anymore, just sat in silence as Freyja finished with his hair. Then she kissed his temple, hugged him and told him good night. It felt good, like the affections of an older sister. 

But once she had left, Loki couldn’t sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, tracing the patterns of branches and leaves, and listened to the sounds of the Vanaheim night. If he listened very closely, he could hear Jon Blund play his flute very, very softly.

Carefully, he crept from his bed and over to the window, opening it to let in the sound.

The melody was soft and quite unlike anything he had ever heard. It whispered of pleasant dreams and soft blankets, of the moon wandering above and waking early. Loki’s eyes felt impossibly heavy as he listened, and his head sunk down against the wall. Soon enough, he stood by the window, fast asleep. 

He woke at an unknown time of the night, to an agony feeling like it was ripping him apart.

It took some time to realize what it was.

Birthing pains.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>    
> People introduced:
> 
> Gerdr Gymirsdattir -  jotun wife of Freyr.
> 
> Jon - Jon Blund, swedish name for The Sandman. Said to play a flute as he herds his sheep through the cities, putting everyone who hears him instantly to sleep.
> 
> Sömnfår - literally, “sleep sheep”. Jon’s sheep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Volstagg is observant, Thor is hurting, and Loki is having a baby.

 

Volstagg was beyond tired and into complete exhaustion. Every limb in his body ached and he really, really, _really_ wanted to join Hogun and Fandral in sleep. But even though he lay snug between them, his favourite position, sleep was stubbornly eluding him. Hogun’s fingers were tangled in his beard, and he turned his head to press a kiss to his knuckles. He was so beautiful in his stillness, his dark lover. Fandral grumbled something, as if he too wanted affection, but kept sleeping. Volstagg patted his rump affectionately and then started the lengthy process of extracting himself from the tangle of limbs that always made up their bed. 

Something drove him to go look in on Thor.

\---

The early morning was ripped apart by screams for the second time since the asgardian prince had arrived in Vanaheim. But this time the cries were of a different kind, less fear and more pain.

“Keep yelling” Gerdr said sternly, “and you won’t have any breath left for the actual birth.” 

She was crouched between Loki’s spread legs, examining him carefully. Loki wanted very, very badly to set her on fire with his sejdr, but was too darn exhausted already to attempt it. Besides, she was his _jordemor_ , and there to help him birth the child that was currently ripping him apart. Or at least it felt like she did. Freyja, who was cradling him with her arms and legs like a mother with her suffering son, crooned soothing nonsense in his ear as her arms tightened around his shuddering body.

The fertility goddess was sitting leaning up against the wall, her legs and arms framing Loki’s body, giving him strength with every fibre of her being. And he needed it; the labour had been going on for many hours, and each ripple of agony made him feel like he was dying.

“Thor” he sobbed desperately as another one hit, “where is Thor.”

Gerdr and Freyja exchanged looks. On Loki’s request, no one in vanaheim had let anyone from another realm know Loki was there. That included the father of his baby. So Thor was most likely in Asgard, worried sick about him and not knowing where he was.

Gerdr pressed strong hands to Loki’s stomach, feeling the child inside.

“She is in the right position” she acknowledged, “at last. Good, it means she is almost ready.”

“Ready?” Loki whimpered and wailed as another wave of agony washed over him. 

“Aye. Freyja, give him strength.” Freyja nodded once; this wasn’t her first birth. She knew what to do.

Her sejdr slipped into Loki like a small, soft tendril of green light, soothing the distress and strengthening his resolve. It also found his child, giving silent encouragement and strength to the little one.

Loki sobbed, this time in relief, his hand clutching at Freyja’s nightgown.

“I can’t do this” he choked out.

“Yes, you can.” she replied confidently. “She wants out, now. Let her.”

Gerdr stood up, face calm but eyes stormy.

“It is time” was all she said.

\---

In the early morning, Thor looked like he had gone three rounds with a giant and lost. His golden hair hung matted, his hands shook, his eyes were red-rimmed. But whether from crying or lack of sleep, Volstagg couldn’t tell. 

“Where is he?” The prince begged, hopeless. “We have searched both Asgard and Midgard. He is nowhere!”

Volstagg thought of the rumours having slipped around Asgard for the past days, falling silent as soon as being said but still there, aching in the silence.

He looked at Thor.

His friend, who was clearly tormented. Anguished, even. Desperate, terrified, and hopeless. There was no way of knowing if the rumours held any truth in them, but he felt that Thor was desperate enough to believe anything if it brought Loki home.

“Let us travel to Jotunheim” he said at last. “Loki might be hiding there.”

Thor shook his head. 

“Why would he hide in such a savage place” he protested, “no one would seek him there.”

“And that is exactly why” Volstagg replied.

Thor mulled it over for several moments. Perhaps in the cold lands of the Jotun, he would find the one who had laid claim to everything he was and everything he had.

He nodded slowly.

“Jotunheim” he murmured, more to himself. “Let us seek my sweet love in Jotunheim.”

If Volstagg had been surprised at the choice of words, he did not let on.

\---

If Loki had thought he was in pain before, it was nothing to the agony he suffered now. He had long since stopped screaming, his voice to hoarse to make any noise. Gerdr was solemn as she ran her cool hands over his shuddering stomach, feeling the extended skin.

“Come now little one” she told the infant who seemed reluctant to be born now that they were all ready for her. “It is alright, you are wanted. Come now.”

Another birthing pain swept over Loki, red-hot and ruthless like a fire. He sobbed, wanted to scream but could only managed a cracked whimper.

Freyja pressed a soothing kiss to his sweaty brow.

“Loki” Gerdr said tersely, “At the next pain, I need you to gather all your strength and push, like we practiced.”

Loki closed his eyes briefly, gathering every reserve he had. They all waited.

When the pain hit, Loki bore down as hard as he could.

“Good!” Gerdr cried as Loki keened, “once more, and we’ll have her head!”

\---

“Jotunheim!” Frigga cried in alarm when she realised where the four men before her were heading. “You can’t!”

“But Loki might be there,” Thor replied, as stubborn as a mountain. He adjusted his pack, refusing to listen to his mother’s pleas. Odin said nothing, looking thoughtfully at the Warriors Three.

“I expect you came up with this” he told them sternly. “You will keep him safe, and bring my children home.”

“Odin!” Frigga cried, “what if-”

“All will be well” Odin replied sternly, “and Loki will come home. What happens after that, only the norns know. We will deal with it then.”

Frigga looked like she wanted to argue, but eventually composed herself.

“Very well.” she said cooly. Then she turned to Thor, and the coldness evaporated. “Find him” she begged, “please, tell him I-” she stopped herself, biting her lip.

“What, mother?” Thor asked, impatient to go. “What do I tell him.”

“Tell him… tell him to come home.” 

“I will.”

\---

The child slipped from Loki’s body like she’d had enough of it and wanted free. Gerdr cried out with relief as she saw it, catching the child in well-practiced arms. 

Loki watched, exhausted, as Gerdr cleared his daughter’s little mouth, then flipped her over and smacked her little bottom hard twice. It had the desired effect; the child started wailing, startled and upset. 

“There we go” Gerdr said smugly as she leaned over Loki, “arms like we practiced and you’ll get to hold her.”

Loki curled his arms like he had been taught, and then a warm heavy lump was placed in them.

He stared down at the child in wonderment.

She was perfect, with her cute little nose and perfect little hands waving angrily about as she wailed. She looked as if she had been put in a bucket of paint, but only half. Her left side was a healthy, rosy pink, but the right side was a deep, vivid blue that made Loki think of winter nights. 

“She’ll pale as she grows” Gerdr said somewhere beside him, but he didn’t notice. All he saw was his child, half aesir and half jotun and all perfection.

“Hello sweetheart” he told her, and it was as if his voice silenced her protests instantly. The wailing stopped, and instead she just fussed a little, stilling and calming in his arms. Freyja wrapped a thin shawl around them both, but Loki hardly paid her any mind.

He couldn’t look away from the light in the bright green eyes of Thor’s daughter.


	7. Chapter 7

The door was banged open and a flurry of red hair barrelled into the room. Loki reluctantly tore his eyes away from his daughter and greeted a beaming Freyja.

“Can I hold her?” The goddess demanded instead of saying hello.

Loki hesitated. He needed to feed his daughter, she had only eaten little during the day, but she kept fussing and would not take the breast. Surely a few moments in Freyja’s arms would not make things worse.

“So light” Freyja crooned to the baby, “like a bunch of feathers in my arms. Are you sure she’s eating enough?”

She looked up, bright blue eyes worried. Loki bit his lip, looked away.

“No” he said quietly, “Vigdis says… she says she’s not thriving. That she…” but he wouldn’t finish the sentence, could not bear to even think the impossible.

Freyja stood quiet, rocking the baby who lay still in her arms, tiny fist stuffed in her mouth.

“Gerdr can’t help?” the vanir woman finally asked. Loki shook his head.

“She doesn’t know, either.” 

He turned back to Freyja. “Please let me hold her” he begged, wanting to spend every moment with his daughter if she was truly going to… not going to thrive.

Freyja carefully laid the baby in his arms. She was still, and quiet, looking up at Loki with solemn eyes. He laid her to his breast, heavy and aching with milk, but she only whimpered and would not suckle.

Freyja’s joy vanished, leaving sorrow and fear in it’s place. The look of raw despair on Loki’s face broke her heart, and she wanted more than anything to take it away. This was supposed to be a happy time. The first few days with a new baby so infinitely precious. Perhaps the only days Loki would have with her, if they did not figure out why she would not thrive. Why she was fading.

Then she thought of something. And being who she was, she made her decision swiftly. “I need to go” she told Loki, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I have an idea.” 

And then she was gone, as swiftly as she had come, leaving Loki alone with a child that would not nurse.

But there was also a tendril of hope that maybe, Freyja had the solution this time, too.

 

* * *

 

Eirikki, king of Vanaheim, was old. Or at least he felt old where he sat on his throne, listening with half an ear to a couplpe of water sprites bickering over who had the right to live in a spring. Had he ever been that stubborn?

When Freyja slipped into the hall, the look of anxiety and worry on her face made him put an end to the bickering going on in front of him.

“If you cannot co-habitate, we shall dam the spring” he said coolly, “and none of you will have it.”

The sprites both paled, nearly falling over themselves assuring their king that they would get a long wonderfully, just please please do not dam the spring they both loved. He dismissed them with a wave of his hand and a “I give you one month to prove you can live together, or I dam it.”

“I give them two weeks” Rangvald muttered from his dark corner. The King’s advisor was tall, gaunt and dark with a severe face and tended to make things worse by wearing heavy dark robes. He also liked to lurk in corner and listen in on conversations that he had no business listening in on. Then he reported everything back to the king. Most people either ignored him or thought him creepy, and it suited him just fine. He knew nearly as many secrets as Eirikki, and the only reason he was not an evil man was that he truly and honestly loved his realm and it’s people. But that did not mean that you ever wanted to get on Ragnvald’s dark side. Now he stood in his favourite corner, taking extensive notes on a piece of parchment. His brow was furrowed, and his mouth twisted into a disapproving scowl. Eirikki rolled his eyes at his advisor, but did not bother to make a sarcastic reply. Instead, he turned his head and nodded at Freyja.

“Approach, daughter of Njord.” He said in a formal tone, signalling that his court was in session and hugs were not appropriate.

Freyja approached the throne, and curtseid deeply.

“I come on the behalf of the Lokisdattir” she said.

Eirikki frowned. The sweet little baby, the one who Vigdis said was dying. It was terrible, but none opf the healers of Vanaheim knew what was wrong. There was simply nothing theyt could do but wait and let nature take her toll.

“Speak” Eirikki said when he realised he had been silent for too long, lost in his thoughts.

“None of the healers of vanaheim can help” she began, “and they know all illness of Vanaheim, Asgard and Midgard together.” Eirikki nodded. This was true. They had some of the finest healers in the tree.

“But what if she is suffering from a Jotun illness?” Freyja asked and Eirikki startled. A jotun illness? He hadn’t even thought that far. But the child was a halfblood, born by a jotun.  

“Foolish” he murmured to himself and watched Freyja shrink, “that we didn not think of such a thing. Aye, perhaps the malady is jotun in nature.” He stood up from his throne, effectively dismissing his court. “Ragnvald, with me. We must contact Laufey immediately.”

Rather like a being of light followed by a creature of shadows, the two men hurriedly left the hall.

 

* * *

 

Laufey dismissed the air sprite that had brought the message from the King of Vanaheim with a deep sigh. Farbauti was going to be  _ furious _ , and not in the good way that made him throw Laufey down on the floor and rut between his legs until they were both screaming. No, he was going to be furious in the way that made him start landslides. But it could not be helped. He had to face his consort’s wrath, it would be worse if he didn’t.

 

“Min Nal ” Farbauti rumbled when he saw him, strong arms wrapping around Laufey’s waist like snakes around a tasty rodent. It felt nice, and he allowed the kiss pressed to his lips from the larger giant. Farbauti’s mouth was rough, like the rest of him, and it heated his blood. But there was no time to allow their eternal passion to rule them now, not when he had something so important he had to do.

“I must leave for a time” he gasped when Farbauti finally fininshed plundering his mouth. 

“Hmm” Farbauti pressed hungry kisses down his neck, making Laufey groan and part his legs over a thick, meaty thigh. He ground lazily, wondering if the outfit he was wearing was going to be salvageable after they were done.

“Tell me later” Farbauti growled as he dragged Laufey onto the floor.

“Very well” the king agreed willingly, “but you won’t be pleased.”

“I can be cross later” Farbauti replied placidly as his large, heavy hands slid under Laufey’s shirt. “Now open for me.”

 

* * *

 

“So” Farbauti said as they lay dozing in the snow after having done what they did best, “what is it I am going to be cross about?”

Laufey sighed deeply, raising his head from where it had laid comfortably on his husband’s chest.

“I need to go to Vanaheim, as soon as possible.”

Farbauti frowned.

“Don’t they have summer right now? You will be sick.”

“I will be alright. But there is a little child who needs me.”

“A little child?” Farbauti sounded disbelieving.

“Yes. A half-blood. She is very ill and they know not what is wrong with her.”

“Half-blood?” Farbauti’s voice was treacherously neutral, and Laufey chose his next words carefully.

“A child of jotun and aesir blood, and she is very ill.”

Silence.

“Farbauti…” he pleaded. He didn’t want a fight.

“None of ours have left the realm, and no aesir have been here the last few years. There is no way a half-blood child can be born.”

“And yet there it is.”

“Gerdr?” The hopeful tone in Farbauti’s voice hurt.

“No, not Gerdr.” Laufey replied, not wanting to ruin his hope but not seeing another choice. If Farbauti found out he had once more been deceived…

“So the little bastard has spawned” Farbauti said, voice cold as the deepest of jotun winters. He sat up, making Laufey fall to his side. He would not look at him.

“Farbauti-” Laufey tried, wanting to soothe before the eruption.

“Let it die.” Farbauti ordered harshly, “Like the whelp was supposed to.”

Laufey felt something sharp and brittle inside twist and quiver.

“No” he said, as cold as Farbauti. He sat up, ignoring the discomfort, anger making him shiver.

“I did what you wanted. I turned away from the child I bore. I rejected and denied him, refused any contact. I never even spoke his name. I did it to please you, to make you forgive me.” He swallowed hard. “But I will not let his daughter die to please you. Not when I can help her.”

He stood up, using sejdr to repair his clothes and summon his crown.

“I will go to Vanaheim. I will see my son and my granddaughter, and I will help them both. 

Farbauti stood up, too. He was taller than Laufey, big and strong and cruel and wonderful. Laufey’s heart stuttered with longing for him, but he steeled himself. Thought of the infant fading in her mother’s arms.

“If you go” Farbauti growled as he hovered over Laufey, menacing with voice and size, “I will not welcome you back.”

The words hurt like icicles boring into his heart. But he would not let the pain show as he turned and walked away.

“Then let it be so” he whispered softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Min nal = my needle. Term of affection alluding to Laufey's name in some texts being Nal. 
> 
> New characters:  
> Ragnvald - king Eirikkis chief advisor


	8. Chapter 8

Loki had left his baby with great reluctance, and it had taken many reassurances from both Vigdis and Freyja before he allowed himself to be led away by the former, leaving the fertility goddess alone with his daughter. As the door closed behind him, he thought he could hear his daughter wail, but knew it to be his imagination. She had made hardly any sounds since her birth cry, silent and listless. 

 

Vigdis did not speak, and neither did he, as they walked together down the arched hallway leading to the throne room. Just on the threshold, Vigdis stopped and turned to Loki.

“Please be aware… King Laufey has a special bond with you, Loki, one you were both denied.”

“I know, he’s my father.” 

“But do you know that, in your heart? For it was under his heart you grew, and in his arms, you cried for the first time.”

Loki nodded but did not understand. How could he? He had no memories other than those of Frigga and Odin. Vigdis saw this and shook her head.

“No, you do not understand, child. Imagine, if someone took your little daughter from you and made you deny her birth. Her relation to you. Her very  _ existence _ , and never get to see her again.”

Loki shuddered. He thought of the little baby who already held his heart in her little hands. Of someone taking her away forever, leaving him alone and bereft.

“Is that what was done” he whispered, skin turning a pale shade of blue.

“Aye. But remember that it is Laufey’s pain, and not yours. You still have your daughter. He has come to help her.”

“If he can” Loki whispered, voice unsteady, as he stepped through the open doors into the throne room.

 

* * *

 

 

Tall, was the first thing Loki thought about King Laufey of Jotunheim. Standing he towered a good foot over king Eirikki, and he was as broad as both the Vanir king and the royal advisor together. His skin was a deep blue, and heavy horns curled from his forehead. His teeth were sharp, filling his mouth to bursting even as he smiled what Loki supposed to be a friendly smile. He was dressed in coarse furs of an animal Loki could not name, and all in all, he made a most intimidating figure.

Well, he would have if he wasn’t sitting cross-legged on the floor as one of Eirikki’s servants waved a fan in his face to keep him from overheating. 

“Thank you, little one,” he said with a voice that made Loki think of the rumbling of ice as it warned you about its imminent cracking. Then he stood, in a motion as graceful as an icicle forming. Loki had been right; he did tower over everyone in the hall. Including the king. The furs turned out to be a heavy cloak that he removed and handed to another servant, and suddenly more skin than Loki was comfortable with was bared to the hall. At least he wore a wrap around his hips. 

Laufey turned to look at Loki, opening his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead, they stood staring at each other, and something in Loki resonated at the King’s searching gaze. Perhaps it was his eyes, sharp and bright and the exact same shade of green he saw whenever he looked in the mirror. His eyes. His daughter’s eyes.

“Loki” the king whispered, and there was so much raw grief in the word it made Loki want to cry. But then again, these days everything made him cry. His nerves were so raw from struggling with his daughter, it felt as if he was one cold mug of tea away from bawling his eyes out. 

Then the king was across the hall, clasping his face in cold, gentle hands tipped with sharp claws. “Loki,” he said again, awed.

“King Laufey” Loki replied, not knowing what else to say. Something glimmered briefly in the king’s eyes at the formal tone of Loki’s voice.

“You should know me as your  _ eadni _ ,” he said sadly, “and my hands should not make you shudder from the cold.” He reluctantly released Loki, taking a step back. “Let me look at you, my child, my beautiful child.”

_ Eadni. _ The word thrummed in Loki, resonating with something, the same part of him that had resonated with seeing the king’s bright green eyes. “Help me” that part of him begged, “Please. Eadni. Help my baby.”

 

* * *

 

 _“Tula hem och tula vall, tula långt bort i mossen…”_ Freyja was sitting in a rocking chair with Loki’s baby in her arms, singing sweetly. When he and Laufey entered the room she stopped and looked up.

“Your majesty” she politely greeted the latter but made no attempt to stand up. Instead, she looked at Loki. “I think she’s asleep.”

Laufey hesitated, looking at the bundle in her arms with obvious longing.

“Let me see her” he begged, “My granddaughter… please…”

Loki and Freyja exchanged a look of shock. The proud king of the Jotun, pleading with them? But then Loki gave a small nod, and Freyja stood slowly, approaching the king.

“They say she… she’s sick. That she might…”

Laufey took the baby from Freyja, and in his massive arms, she looked so impossibly tiny.

“So warm” he murmured, rocking the infant tenderly, “little one, you are so warm.”

“Warm?” Loki asked, confused. Freyja frowned.

“The healers say she’s normal temperature.”

“Aye, for an Aesir. But this child is part jotun, and I say she is too warm. To me, she is warm as if taken from a forge. A jotun babe should be like water about to freeze over.” Laufey looked down at the baby, an expression on his hard features that Loki hesitantly labeled concern. Then the king seemed to make a decision.

“Does Eirikki still have that special cold spring?” He asked Freyja, who nodded.

“Yes, we take ice from it in the summer.”

“Excellent. We shall go to it immediately.”

 

* * *

 

The spring was small, able to fit about six grown aesir snugly, and the cold was wafting from it in a way that made Loki freeze down to his bones. It was both disconcerting and somehow familiar. As if it was a part of a home he had never known. 

 

“Now,” Laufey said calmly, “I shall immerse myself and take the babe in my arms, close to my heart. The cold of my body and the cold of the water together should help bring her temperature down.”

“But what if-” Loki protested, clutching his baby.

“Trust me, child. I am one of my realm’s finest healers. I would not harm this sweet babe, not the way my actions have harmed you.” Laufey waded into the freezing waters, as if unable to look at Loki any longer.

“But I have not been harmed.” Loki protested, confused.

“And yet you have grown up not knowing who you are,” Laufey said, now up to his waist in water that was dark with cold, “and you have worn a glamour. I can sense it on you.“ Loki distractedly touched his blue cheek. He still struggled to look at himself in the mirror.

“I… I’ve been trying to reapply it.”

“I can understand why.” Laufey sounded sad. “The face you have now is not the one you are used to seeing. And yet, by jotun standards, you are a beauty. If a bit small. You grew up so lovely… you must be so very loved, my child…” 

Loki hesitated, wondering if he ought to tell Laufey of what the Asgardians thought of him or not. Silver-tongue, liesmith, trickster, all these things they called him. Some of them even said it to his face. Just because he was different because his sejdr was not like theirs. But now he knew why; he wasn’t like them, he was the child of the man who was now holding his arms out for the babe who lay so still and warm in his arms, quietly struggling to stay alive. He moved forward, as if on unheard command, and reached out for Laufey. The water washed over his feet, and he winced.

“It’s freezing!” He cried in alarm, once more clutching his daughter to his chest.

Laufey laughed at him as he sat down on a low shelf beneath the surface. It allowed the water to immerse him to his broad chest.

“Ha! It is barely cold. Come now and give me the child.”

Loki bit his lip, not sure if it was a good idea. Then he made his decision, and carefully laid his daughter into his eadni’s arms. She fussed a little, but other than that seemed to be still. Laufey gently removed the blanket covering her, then the rest of her clothes. She lay bare in his arms, the water touching her back and covering her legs. 

“Come join us now” Laufey commanded Loki, “once she perks up, she will be hungry.”

“But it’s cold!” Loki protested.

“Are you jotun or not?” Laufey said in a teasing tone.

So Loki, shuddering from the cold, undid his clothes and laid them on the side of the spring. Then he waded into the water, trying not to think of how it stung his skin with every step, making him feel as if his body was fleeing from him and leaving him numb.

Eventually, he was seated next to Laufey on the little ledge, looking down at his daughter who’s half-skin was slowly turning from a healthy pink to a pale white. The other half of her stayed the same deep blue.

“Is she alright now?” Loki asked anxiously when the cold became too much.

“Nay” Laufey replied, “it will take time. You will need to keep watch on her temperature very closely until she is old enough to tell you she is too warm. But look; her little lips are turning a healthy blue.”

“She’s freezing!” Freyja, who had been anxiously waiting on the edge, cried in alarm. “I’ll get her blanket!”

“Calm yourself Vanir” Laufey replied, jiggling the baby a little. “She is not ill. In fact, she is starting to become healthy. Look, look at the light returning to her pretty eyes.”

And he was right; the light that had been there when she had been born, and then dulled, was returning. It burned brighter and brighter the colder she got.

“Beautiful” Loki sighed, leaning forward to look at his daughter who was starting to move about in the water, splashing delightedly. “I want… I want to name her for it.”

“Then you should call her Hela.” Laufey said and smiled that tooth-filled smile of his, “It means “inner light”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Eadni" is mother in north saami, one of the indigenous languages of Sweden.
> 
>  
> 
> Freyja's lullaby is a traditional swedish lullaby called "tula hem och tula vall". Here you see the lyrics and a rough translation.
> 
> "Tula hem och tula vall,   
> tula långt åt mossen.   
> Kål fick jag när jag kom hem,   
> kål fick jag i påsen.   
> Mjölken var båd’ gul och blå,  
> osten såg jag lite å,   
> smöret smakte jag aldrig."
> 
> working hard at home and herding,  
> working hard at the bog.  
> I was given cabbage when I came home,  
> I got cabbage for my wayfare.  
> the milk was both yellow and blue,  
> I looked a little at the cheese,  
> I never tasted the butter.
> 
> It can be heard sung beautifully at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ud59sKzKT5k


	9. Chapter 9

Thor was a Man with a Mission, and this was clear in every step he took striding into the Royal Castle of Jotunheimr as if he owned the place and was really unhappy about its upkeep. His four companions trickled in after him and tried not to shiver too obviously even though the bitter cold chilled them down to their very souls. 

Standing in the hall of the frost giants, the Aesir felt small and insignificant like a ship about to be crushed by an iceberg. The architecture whispered of dark waters and treacherous ice, thick enough to make you think you could walk upon it but with the hint of breaking so that every step was a new risk on your life. The throne itself was hewn from thick ice, gleaming white and blue like the finest gemstones in Asgard.

“Where is he!” Thor demanded the first thing he did, which clearly did not impress the giant sitting on the throne. Sif winced at his rudeness, hoping the tall giant on the heavy throne would not mind. 

“You are going to have to be more specific” the giant replied drolly, his voice like distant avalanches.

“Loki!” Thor nigh-on yelled and Sif realized she was going to have to do the talking.

She stepped forward, chin squared defiantly.

“I apologize for my friend’s rudeness” she began, “but his brother Loki has been missing nigh on a month from Asgard and we are wondering if he can be found in your realm.” She finished her speech by stepping hard on Thor’s foot when it looked like he was about to say something. Even in his irate state, he realized the warning and closed his mouth.

“No,” said the ice giant, clearly bored. “The Aesir prince and his half-breed whelp aren’t here, and you can take my word for it.”

“King Laufey-” Sif began, but the giant laughed. It wasn’t a joyous sound; in fact, it was more bitter than anything else.

“That traitorous-” he swallowed hard as if forcing words back into his mouth instead of letting them slip out. “King Laufey” he began again, “is in Vanaheim to save a dying halfbreed.”

Thor turned stark white.

“Dying?” He asked as if refusing to believe what he was hearing.

“Aye,” said the giant who was not Laufey. “A child, so I can understand why he would go.” But it was clear he didn't like it.

Thor made an odd little noise, his face a painting of anguish.

“The babe” he cried, “he’s had the babe. And I wasn’t there for the birth!”

Fandral put a comforting hand on the thunderer’s shoulder.

“There now, my friend, it will be alright.”

“How?” Thor demanded, “my child is dying in a realm, not ours and I am not there with them!”

“But Laufey has gone to help” Fandral pointed out calmly. The only sign of his own distress was how his fingers tightened on Thor’s shoulder. “It will be alright.”

But Thor did not seem to hear him, lost in the most painful realization of his life.

“I wasn’t there” he lamented, “and now I might never get to see it. I don’t even know what he had, son or daughter.”

Sif, who was still watching the giant who wasn’t Laufey, saw an odd expression flitter over his savage face. Then he stood, and Sif shivered at the realization that he was almost twice as tall as her. He walked over to them slowly, giving the impression of a slowly moving iceberg.

“You grieve” he noted, thoughtful, looking at Thor. “For a babe, you do not know. You weep, for a child, you might never know.”

Thor angrily wiped his eyes, forcing back tears he was too proud to let fall.

“It matters not” he replied hotly, “for it is the child I and my own love created together, and my heart breaks at knowing I might never hold my child.”

“Daughter” the giant replied. “He has your daughter.”

Thor flinched as if he’d been slapped as the words sank into his consciousness.

“Loki” he keened, “Loki, Loki, I should have been there. I should have seen our daughter born.”

“I see his grief” the giant murmured, turning back to Sif. “And I… perhaps I understand a little better now.  _ Min nal _ … he never would show me his grief. His pain. I knew he suffered, but… when you do not see it...”

Sif nodded, having no idea what he was talking about.

“Go to Vanaheim,” he told her, “and reunite your friend with his mate and child. And tell Laufey…” he hesitated, considering his next words carefully. “Tell Laufey… Farbauti is waiting.”

 

* * *

 

“We must to Vanaheim at once” Thor insisted as they left the hall, but Sif shook her head as she once more played the sole voice of reason.

“You promised Odin no excursions. To Jotunheim, inquire after Loki, go straight back. You cannot break a vow to the all-father, he’ll have you punished.”

Thor looked torn, clearly wanting to argue. “My child-” he began.

“Your child is with Loki and Laufey is there to help. It will be alright, Thor. But you must return to Asgard and report to Odin before going anywhere else.” Sif insisted, even though she too wanted to go straight to Vanaheim to see for herself that the little one was alright. Then she thought of something.

“I can go,” she said, “I borrowed Svana’s fjederhamn before we left, I will use it to fly to Vanaheim and check in on Loki.”

Thor nodded. “Go at once” he ordered her, “and tell me about it as soon as you get there.”

“I will” Sif promised as she pulled the shimmering grey cloak from her pack. 

“Now go back to Asgard before Odin gets too angry with you.” She said as she threw it over her shoulders. Then she let out one long honk goodbye and took to the airs, her swan wings beating furiously against the freezing winds.

Thor stood for many moments, watching as she flew away towards where the branch that was Jotunheim joined the Great Tree. 

“My child” he whispered into the wind, “my daughter.”

 

* * *

 

As Sif flew across the worlds, she thought of what Farbauti had said. A half-breed babe. But Thor was completely convinced that the child was his, and she saw no reason to doubt him. The only person more in love than Thor was Loki. You had to be blind not to see how much they adored each other, how they ached for each other, how they both glowed each time they touched. So the child was definitely Thor’s. So then that meant that the rumors about Loki must be true - how he was not truly Frigga’s son, or perhaps it was that he wasn’t Odin’s son?

Sif had been little herself when Loki had been born and had no idea if Frigga’s belly had ever been round with him or not. So Loki was a half-breed, then. She wondered which of the regents had lain with a Jotun but felt terribly ashamed of the thought. Still, it stayed with her on her long, cold flight to a warmer branch.

 

As she arrived in Vanaheim, Sif glided slowly on a warm wind sweeping across the land and bringing her with it. It was a beautiful land, but not as beautiful as Asgard. Lush groves of trees, ripe fields, creatures both large and small frolicking in the grass. Vanir, she thought. Nature spirits.

At last, she found a little lake that seemed suited for landing and dove down like Svana had taught her. As she got closer, she could feel how cold it was, but there was no time to change her mind now as she did not know how to change direction mid-dive. Instead, she landed with great reluctance and a greater splash in the freezing water and hurriedly began paddling towards the shore.

 

She didn’t notice curious eyes, the shade of a sweet spring brook, watching from behind a rock as she let the swan-coat hidden in a crevice and started to walk up the narrow path leading to the King’s hall. 

 

* * *

 

Loki had just put Hela to sleep in the little ice crib that Laufey had made for her and stood to admire the pale translucency of her skin. It had taken many reassurances from Laufey that she was truly going to be alright, but eventually, he had believed them. Her little mouth was a sweet blue, and her little fingers felt like icicles when she clenched her fist around his finger. But she made no fuss and had eaten her last meal with gusto as if she was ravenous. 

He thought of Thor, wondering if his brother was looking for him. Surely he was? He remembered how Thor had sworn his heart and hand mere weeks before he had fled for Vanaheim before he even told Thor about the child. To be fair, he had still not told Thor about the child. But somehow, he felt that Thor knew. Must know. He was, after all, amongst other things a god of fertility. 

But neither of them had ever said anything about the child. And now she had been born, and she was beautiful. As beautiful as the man who had fathered her, the man Loki missed more with every passing day.  _ He ought to be here,  _ Loki thought.  _ How cruel of me to keep this from him. He would make an excellent father. _

Hela momentarily opened her brilliant green eyes. 

The warmth of the light in her eyes made him come to a decision. In the morning, he was contacting Thor.

 

* * *

 

Vigdis sat on the edge of her bed, brushing out Eirikki’s hair from the ornate style he usually wore it in. The evening was late, and by the slump of Eirikki’s shoulders, she could tell that her husband was weary. More weary than usual.

“What is it that bothers you?” She asked eventually, making war on a particularly stubborn tangle.

“Ow!” Her husband protested, but then answered her question. “The Lokisdattir.”

“What with the Lokisdattir?”

“She is still very weak, Laufey said. She needs many more healing sessions to be truly alright.” 

“And he will give them,” Vigdis replied calmly, putting down the brush.

“Aye, but at what cost? Surely he too suffers from the warmth of our autumn.”

Vigdis considered this. It was a valid concern. Vanaheim was a warm realm, only truly cold during the short winter months. It had been this way since Eirikki became king; the realm was its king and he was his realm, so his personality influenced the weather. Being a warm, kind, generous man, Eirikki caused warm weather and bountiful harvest. It was good to be Vanir under his rule. But it was bad to be a frost giant, she realized. 

Vigdis hummed thoughtfully as she rose to put the brush back on the dresser, then she let out her own hair. There were thin streaks of grey through the dark hair she had been so proud of in her youth, but the ever-young king still thought her fair. She had no reason to fear a wandering eye; Vigdis knew that when her life ended, Eirikki would grieve for as many summers as she had been his wife before he took a new one. The difference in lifespan was one of the many things that you had to take into account when marrying amongst the Vanir, but Eirikki had never once hesitated even though he knew he would outlive his warrior maiden with many moons.

“You are beautiful my love,” he said adoringly where he laid spread out on their bed, as strong and virile as when he had made her his. 

“Even like this?” Her body wasn’t that of a young woman anymore. Places sagged, and other were tight, and there were crow’s feet around her eyes.

“The loveliest woman in Vanaheim” he replied, and she saw in his eyes that he meant it.

She crawled in next to him, resting her head on his chest. She loved sleeping thusly. 

“Make winter come early,” she told him as she stretched out. “That will take care of things.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Do you think we will be able to harvest everything in time to throw a decent winter feast?”

“Aye. With your sejdr and mine, we will manage. It will be a fine feast.”

“Then let it be winter, my dearest.” Eirikki put his arms around her. “Do you think Leif will be able to make it home in time?” He was referring to their son, somewhere in the tree on adventures.

“I’m sure he will if we send a message in the morning.”

He pressed a fond kiss to her brow.

“And what of the Asgard swan-woman?”

“I think you made the right decision to keep her away from Loki tonight. She will meet him tomorrow, and hopefully, they will both speak kindly to each other.”

“You think there is bad blood.” 

“There is not the friendship she claimed.”

Eirikki sighed, running his hands down her back, questioning. Vigdis smiled.

“Come husband,” she said as she pulled him close, throwing one leg over his hip, “let us celebrate the coming of winter.”

“My dearest” he whispered adoringly against her breasts, “my own dearest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Svana: OFC goddess. Name means “swan-maiden”. Has a fjederhamn, which is a feather coat, that makes her able to shapeshift into a swan.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long since the last update. College is kicking my butt.

They gathered over tea, for so was the custom in Vanaheim.

“Do you really want her to be here?” Freyja asked with a quick look at Sif, who looked very uncomfortable.

“She might as well” Loki replied, rocking Hela slowly. She looked up at him with sleepy green eyes. “That way there will be an Aesir witness as well, and I cannot be accused of lying.” 

Freyja frowned. “Surely they wouldn’t-”

“I have been called liesmith since I was old enough to talk” Loki said quietly, not wanting to let on how it hurt. But Freyja saw anyway, and squeezed his arm in sympathy.

“Are those the same cakes I had last time I was here?” Laufey asked Vigdis in a voice that was too loud and forcefully cheerful, as if he wanted to disperse the uncomfortable airs filling the room.

“Aye, baked just the way you like them. Please enjoy, everyone.”

There was a rustling and scrapiing as chairs were pulled over to the little table. Laufey chose to sit on the floor, since that meant he didn’t need to squeeze his bulk into a chair too small for him and he could still comfortably reach the plate of little leaf-shaped cakes crowned with whipped cream. They were, after all, his favourite.

 

After everyone had helped themselves to the spread, Vigdis spoke.

“We have gathered because some truths need to be spoken, and what better place than here. Loki, you will begin. As brief or as long-winded as you choose.”

“I…” Loki looked down at his mug and realized, a little belatedly, that it was the same tea that he had drunk his first night in Vanaheim. Therefore, his tongue would not lie still in his mouth and he began to speak.

 

It wasn’t much of a story, really, but he still confessed how he had lain with Thor many times, how their passion had bloomed from childhood into youth and how he loved him. How the child sleeping peacefully in a basket filled with ice was Thor’s.

Eventually, once his voice had silenced, Sif spoke. She, too, had drunk the tea.

“I suspected” was her only words. “I have seen how he looks at you. And Thor is very easy to love.” There was sadness in her eyes.

“Aye, he is.” Loki agreed, looking back with the same sadness. He knew her pain, had felt it many times before the first time Thor took him in his arms and called him beautiful.

“You are thinking of him right now, aren’t you?” She asked.

“When am I not?” Loki turned his face away. “I wonder if he is thinking of me.”

“He is.” Sif said firmly as she put down her mug.

“You sound confident.” Loki whispered, not sure if he dared believe her. They had never spoken of love after all. It was so easy to doubt, so hard to trust.

“I am.” Sif insisted, “They way he looks at you… no man who is not in love looks like that.”

“He is my brother.” Loki said miserably.

“But not by blood, as you have learnt recently.” Freyja interjected. 

“This is true.” Laufey made an odd noise, but remained silent.

“You need to tell him about the baby.” Vigdis was solemn but firm. “He deserves to know.” 

“I thought he already knew.” Loki frowned.

“But he deserves to hear the words from your lips. Being a father is one of the greatest things you can be. Do not take it away from him. Do not take his daughter away from him.”

“Do you really think he loves me?” Loki looked at the three women and one man, seeking reassurance.

“I know he loves you.” Sif replied, voice full of conviction. “I am confident that last night he laid awake, unable to sleep for longing for you. He loves you, Loki. You must trust in him.”

 

* * *

 

Sif had been right in that Thor had lain awake, sick with longing. To know that his suspicions were true, that there was a child, made him feel like he was coming apart, splitting in two. One half wanted to be a good son and a good prince and put his people first, but the other half was desperate to be with Loki, to see and hold his child. He didn’t know which part was the strongest. 

 

Eventually, he forced himself out of bed and down to the grand hall for breakfast. He found Odin and Frigga alone in the great hall, as was the custom. Breakfast was for the family alone; all other meals were open for the inhabitants of Odin’s hall. 

As it was, Thor couldn’t eat. Instead he sat and stirred his porridge into an increasingly lumpy mess.

“Thor?” Frigga’s voice broke in, clearly worried. “Why aren’t you eating?” Thor always had an appetite, no matter the circumstances. To see him refuse his breakfast was quite alarming, especially to his mother.

The young prince sighed deeply and let go of his spoon. It sploshed down into his bowl, spattering porridge around it.

“Loki” Thor said quietly, but his words rang through the silent hall as if he had shouted. Frigga put down her own spoon, eyes full of worry.

“Did you not find anything in Jotunheim?” She asked carefully after a look at Odin, who was frowning into his own untouched bowl.

“Nay, he wasn’t there. But Sif flew to Vanaheim to search there.”

“I see.” Frigga frowned. “But how did he get to Vanaheim? He did not cross Bifrost, we know that.”

“Perhaps he had help” Odin said thoughtfully. “I have not seen Freyja since Loki vanished.”

“You think he might be with her.” Thor frowned unhappily. Freyja had a bit of a reputation of being very fond of handsome men. And in all of Asgard, none was as beautiful as his Loki. His Loki, who had fled him as if their love meant nothing. But Thor didn’t want to think those ugly thoughts; they made doubt rear its head and he didn’t want to doubt Loki. He had sworn once, to always believe in Loki, no matter how many others doubted him. He would not go back on his promise now.

“Perhaps she helped him” Thor offered when the silence between the three proved too much. 

“It must have been shortly after…” Frigga began but stopped herself. Thor looked up at his mother, hopeful.

“Since what, Mother? Please, do you know anything?” Odin gave Frigga a very sharp look.

“Did something happen in the gardens, wife?” He asked, mor ean order than anything else. Frigga’s gardens was the once place in Asgard where Hugin and Munin, his ravens, never entered. He had promised her that when they married, and whatever Odin might be he kept his promises to his wife. Well, most of them. The secrecy of her gardens was a promise he kept.

Frigga looked unhappy, as if she had said something she shouldn’t have said.

“He came to me to ask my help, suspecting himself with child. I proved… unhelpful.”

And after that the Queen was silent, no matter how much the King and the Prince needled her. 

 

* * *

 

Thor had eventually given up breakfast, deciding to spend the morning sparring with some of his father’s einherjar or the warriors three. Odin simply would not hear of him running of to Vanaheim, insisting that Loki would come home when he was good and ready and that babe wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was Thor. 

It did no good to argue with Odin, better to obey him. Thor had learnt that lesson the hard way, but he still plotted ways to get away to vanaheim the first chance he had. He ached to see his child, and to hold Loki again. His own sweet Loki, who was all alone in a strange realm. What must he be thinking of Thor, who had not yet come for him? 

The thought hurt, aching deep within his soul and ripping at his already bleeding heart. Tears burned in Thor’s eyes, but he was too proud to allow them to fall. Instead, he squared his shoulders and walked faster.

 

That’s when _she_ came scurrying towards him.

 

She was a small brunette woman in a green dress, and it took Thor a few moments to realize that she was trying to catch up with him. It took longer to recognize her. One of his mother’s maids.

“What do you want?” He snapped, harsh by the tears still clogging his throat. She stopped right in front of him, her hair undone from her haste, and a look of frustration on her face.

She pointed to her throat, shaking her head firmly. Thor frowned, not understanding. Clearly frustrated, the woman placed a hand over her mouth, then firmly shook her head again. This time, Thor understood.

“You must be Hilja” he said, “the one who cannot speak.”

The woman, Hilja, smiled at this, clearly pleased to be recognized by the crown prince. Then her frown was back.

“Do you have something you need to tell me?” Thor asked, wondering if he could excuse himself yet. More than anything he wanted to beat the ever living out of something. Or someone.

Hilja made a helpless gesture, then pointed outside the window. From where he stood, Thor could see a few of the trees growing in his mother’s garden. Then she pointed to herself.

“You… in the garden. You want to show me something in the garden?”

She shook her head, pointing to her eyes. Then to the garden again.

“You have… you have seen something?” Thor tried to understand. “You saw something in the garden?”

Hilja beamed at him, nodding.

Thor’s heart started to beat faster. 

“Well?” He demanded. “What was it?”

Hilja once more looked frustrated. Then she put her hands around her forehead, finger raised as if forming a make-shift crown. She then made an odd motion with her hand. It took a little longer for Thor to understand this time. Crown, sewing. Frigga.

“You saw my mother, in the garden?” He tried, feeling pleased at having guessed correctly. Hilja nodded again, frantic.

“What did you see my mother do?” Thor asked, feeling as if there was something very important here.

Hilja drew a deep breath, giving him an apologetic look.

Then she slapped him.

Hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hilja - OFC maid of Frigga's. Name means "quiet".


	11. Chapter 11

There was a moment where Thor stood in shock at the maid’s audacity, wanting to take her by her slim shoulders and give her a good shake. Maybe even let his hands become fists. 

But then he remembered his good upbringing (never hit a woman) and by what must have been highly advanced sejdr managed to pull back his fury. His cheek smarting, he glared furiously at the unhappy Hilja.

“How dare you-” he snarled, but she shook her head again and looked at him pleadingly. Then she once more formed her hands to a crown. Even though he was seething, a part of Thor was still capable of interpreting. It still took him a few moments to understand.

“Mother” he said, voice quiet with horrified understanding. “You saw mother slap someone.” Hilja shook her head again. “No… not someone? Loki? You saw mother slap Loki?” Hilja nodded her head yes.

 

Thor’s mind swam with the realization. Frigga had struck Loki, and shortly after he was missing. But missing, how? By his own accord, or had he been made to vanish? And why would she hit him? He was her favourite, had always been. Thor hadn’t minded that much - Loki was his favourite, too. His whole world. His own darling, even though they’d both known it was wrong. 

Thor walked past HIlja in a stupor, mind reeling. 

He and Loki were brothers, if by name only. It hadn’t been until they found out that Loki was adopted that they truly consummated what had burned between them for years at that point. Thor remembered vividly how Loki had reached for him in his pain, sought comfort and protection where he had always found it before; in Thor’s arms.

But this time he had fled Thor. Hiding from him, not wanting to even let him see the child they had made together. Because it was his, right? Surely Loki had not let another… touch him  _ like that _ . To touch, and taste, and press together. Loki had bled the first time, biting his shoulder and sobbing at the pain. But it was also he who had dug his heels into Thor’s back, demanding more, again, insatiable and wild and wonderful. Like all their couplings, frantic in the dark, beneath the covers, lips pressed together to silence the other’s passionate cries.

Thor wanted to cry again, but he had cried enough. It was time to take action.

First, he would confront his mother.

Then, father be damned, he was going to Vanaheim and fetching Loki and his daughter home. 

 

* * *

 

Sif was on her way home, because there was no reason for her to stay longer. She had seen Loki with her own eyes and had it confirmed that he was alright, and she’d even gotten to hold the baby. While Hela had been lovely, with her deep green eyes and soft blue lips, it had only confirmed to Sif what she already knew; babies were nice, but she didn’t want one. 

So it was humming softly that she walked the little grassy path down to where she had hidden Svana’s coat. The air was distinctly colder now than when she arrived, and in a distance she could see the Vanir - curious people that they were - work hard to bring in what promised to be a bountiful harvest. 

 

She shivered as she approached the little icy spring, the air around her growing rapidly colder until it felt almost like it had done in Jotunheim. That’s when she saw the Jotun King, lying sprawled on his back floating serenely on the surface of the spring. He seemed content, at peace, but when he heard her approach he stopped floating and instead stood up, the cold water neatly hiding his nudity from the waist down. Sif blushed, looking away from him. She had seen men naked before, there was no avoiding it when you lived with the warriors three, but this was an Ice Giant and a King to boot. It wouldn’t do to look too closely.

“Lady Sif” he rumbled, “I am afraid you come upon me at an inopportune moment. I am at a disadvantage.”

Sif blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” she stammered, then hastily added “your majesty.”

She wondered if she ought to curtsy.

The water rippled as Laufey waded towards shore, where he wrapped himself in a thin sheath of flimsy fabric that did very little to cover him. In fact, it clung to his wet body in a way that even Sif found very distracting. He was an undeniably beautiful man.

“Is there anything you wanted?” He asked, as if unaware that Sif couldn’t stop staring at his chest.

“N-no” she stuttered, embarrassed. Then she remembered something.

“Oh… yes. There was this one thing…”

“Go on” Laufey was clearly amused, most likely fully aware what effect he was having on the young asynja. 

“You told a story the other night” Sif said as she finally managed to peel her eyes away from the way a water droplet slowly slipped down over soft blue skin and lean muscles. “About a Jotun and an Aesir creating a child.”

“So I did.”

“That child was Loki, wasn’t it?”

“Aye.” Laufey looked sad. “It was Loki.”

Sif considered this, not sure how to ask the question that had been burning in her mind since.

“The Aesir, he was a powerful and shrewd man. Wholly unlike the Jotun’s consort.”

“So he was.”

“I’ve met Farbauti.” Sif said, thoughtful. “And I can’t help but think… he is very unlike Odin, is he not?” She carefully did not look at the Jotun as she said this, instead letting her eyes slide over the ice already forming on the surface of the spring.

There was silence for several moments, then Laufey sighed deeply.

“I thought you might make the connection” he said, “you are wiser than you let on.”

Sif blushed at the compliment. It wasn’t one she had ever had before. Strong, beautiful, accomplished swordswoman - sure. But wise? No one had ever called Sif wise before.

“Thank you” she murmured shyly, daring to look at Laufey again. He was still impossibly distracting in his wet coverings. No man ought to be that beautiful, not even if that beauty was savage and hinted of cruelty.

“I won’t tell Loki” she said eventually, realizing Laufey was waiting for her to speak again. “About my suspicions. After all, I have no proof. And it would only upset him.”

“You do not think he will figure it out himself.”

“Of course he will. In time. But right now? No, he is too busy with thinking of Thor and his little daughter. He will not figure it out. Not yet.”

Sif went over to where she had hidden the fjederhammen, and then remembered something. She turned back to Laufey.

“I am supposed to bring you a message from Farbauti.” She said, apologetic.

“Do go on.” There was a glint of hope in his eyes, as brightly green as Loki’s. 

“I am to tell you… he is waiting.”

There was a ripple of emotion that crossed Laufey’s face, and for a moment Sif thought he might cry. Then he hardened himself, like an icicle forming in the dark.

“Thank you” he said quietly, then turned his back on her.

Sif stood for several moments and watched him walk up the path towards the King’s Hall, before she remembered her coat. She went over to the little crevice where she had put it and brushed away the snow that had fallen on the rocks.

Then, she stared in mute horror.

It wasn’t there.

Someone had taken it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today since I'm supposed to not be writing at all til Monday.  
> But I couldn't resist.

 

Loki had just managed to settle Hela when his door opened and a very pale Sif came in.

“My fjederhammen” she said, clearly distressed. “It’s missing!”

“Hush!” Loki hissed, glancing worriedly at the ice crib where Hela was to sleep. “Don’t wake her!”

Sif paled, shooting an apologetic glance towards it. Babies needed to sleep, and parents rest. Loki’s eyes, brilliant green, were rimmed with exhausted blue and black. Immediately she felt guilty. 

“sorry” Sif said in a much quieter tone. 

“What do you mean, your fjederhammen is missing?” Loki hissed as he dragged her into the hallway, closing the door carefully behind him.

 

Sif told him, in hushed whispers, about how she had hidden the coat carefully in a crevice and how it was nowhere to be found. Once she had finished, Loki frowned in thought. 

“I don't know” he eventually admitted. “perhaps Eirikki is like Odin and can look for it using farsight.”

Sif felt rather stupid for not having thought of it herself, so it was with embarrassment she bid Loki good night and let him alone with his sweet little daughter. 

 

* * *

 

“Stolen?” Eirikki frowned, his serene face darkening with anger. “how dare someone-”

“Husband” Vigdis soothed his wrath the best she could. Her hand on his arm seemed to anchor him on the present and he visibly restrained his anger. Vigdis, sensing that he was to be reasoned with, went on: “have Ragnvald send out his birds to look for it, and meanwhile dear Sif will stay and celebrate winter with us.”

The darkness cleared from Eirikki’s brow and he smiled adoringly at his wife. 

“You are as wise as ever, my dearest.” then, addressing Sif, he went on:

“Ragnvald’s birds may not be Odin’s, but they can search this realm faster than I can. They will find your stolen coat, and meanwhile you will celebrate the arrival of winter with the rest of us.” the last bit was not a request, but an order, and the soldier in Sif bowed deeply.  

“Thank you, your majesties.“

 

* * *

  
  
"You are not going!" Frigga yelled when it became clear to her that Thor had no intention of listening to or obeying her.   
"Watch me!" The thunderer snarled in reply, shoving another shirt into his pack. "I have been away from them for long enough. I will not stay away one more hour!"   
Frigga wrung her hands, feeling uncharacteristically helpless. she was scared, even if she'd not admit it even to herself.   
"Thor, you are the crown prince of Asgard" she tried, "There are rules..."   
"To Muspelheim with the rules!"   
"Thor!" Frigga looked at her son aghast. "Mind your tongue!"   
"Nevermind my tongue." Thor looked at her she had never known before, and she did not like it. like she was something he'd scraped of his shoe. She had literally never seen him so angry in his whole life.    
"Thor-" Frigga pleaded, raising her arms to him as if wanting to embrace him.   
"What are you really worried about, mother? That I will cause a diplomatic incident, or what Loki might tell me as to why he fled his home? Fled from ME?"   
Frigga went white at the demand. "Thor..."   
"Because I already know. I know you struck him, when he came to you to ask for help, and you-"   
Thor couldn't go on, choking on his anger. Instead, he shoved one last shirt into his pack and slung it over his shoulder.    
"Then he turned on Frigga, an image of righteous fury.    
"Why, mother?" He demanded. "Why?" There was so much anger and pain in Thor's voice that it made her eyes fill with tears. But still Frigga stood silent, helpless, not knowing what to say. She, who was never at a loss for words. Faced with her son's pain, all her words abandoned her. Her arms feel helpless to her sides.    
There were so many reasons. So many things he didn't know. Things she was ashamed of and didn't want to drag into the light. Eventually, her silence had clearly dragged on for too long and Thor lost his patience.   
"It doesn't matter" he spat, "I am bringing Loki home and we are getting married. And I do not care what you think or say."   
With that said, he pushed past her and stormed from the room, stil furious. Frigga was left alone with the silence and the feeling that she had just lost another son. 


	13. Chapter 13

The crowd milöling around in the square was a mix of creatures, many kinds of which Loki had never seen before. Short and tall, robust and flighty, green and brown and pink. Vanir. Dozens upon dozens of Vanir.

“My people!” Eirikki boomed where he stood on a small wooden bench two guardsmen had carried out for the explicit purpose of WEirkki being able to stand on it and address his people. Even with his height, several of the gathered still towered over their king.

“My people!” Eirikki cried again when when the crowd had calmed down somewhat. “My people, this year we are honored by far-away guests; a prince of fair Asgard and his handmaiden have decided to stay for the celebrations!” He gestured grandly to Loki, who was rocking his baby, and Sif, who looked uncomfortable. “So let this night be a night of rest and celebration. We have had a good harvest, and a bountiful autumn. But now autumn has left us, and fair winter stands ready. Let us embrace each other and share warmth and comfort. Let us rejoice in the closeness of winter and the fullness of our granaries and larders. Happy yuletide everyone!”

“Happy yule!” a hundred or more voices cried as one, and Loki could see many impulsive hugs amongst the crowd. Then, somewhere, someone began to sing a song of the winter and the snow, and everyone joined in. loki didn’t quite understand the words, but little Hela crooned along, the light in her eyes impossibly bright with her joy.

 

* * *

 

“Go on” Laufey said encouragingly, “the winter feast of Vanaheim must be experienced.”

Loki hesitated. Hela was so young, to be away from her was an impossibility. But as he stood dressed in finery suitable for a prince of both Jotunheim and Asgard, it would be quite a shame if he did not join the revelry and show of the fine red robe, embroidered with snowflakes and magical runes. It made his skin glow a brilliant blue and when he looked at himself in the mirror he almost felt beautiful. He only wished that Thor had been there to see him. He hoped the thunderer would look upon him with pleasure, even though he was clearly not Aesir. Vigdis had promised him a working glamour by the time he returned to Asgard, should he choose to do so, but he had not yet been given one. So instead he stood there, dressed up and reluctant to go, and looked longingly at his little daughter. Hela was safely clasped in Laufey’s arms.

“You need some time to be young!” Laufey insisted, “Go on. Be irresponsible. Dance and make merry. Drink too much. I will care for the little  _ stelpa _ . We are kin, she is safe with me.” That last part was spoken in a tone implying he knew that Loki was anxious, both encouraging and humouring at the same time. 

It took Freyja, dressed in a very fetching green gown with her hair done up, putting a hand on his arm and imploring him to go to make up Loki’s mind. He stopped fussing over his clearly content daughter, and turned to his friend.

“Let us go,” he said before he could change his mind.

 

Once left alone, Laufey settled in a rocking chair with his impossibly small grandchild. The chair rocked gently under his weight as he marvelled at her bright eyes, her soft skin, her perfect tiny fingers gripping his finger with a strength that would make any  _ eadni _ proud.

“I shall tell you about your family” he told her as she blinked up at him with bright green eyes.

“I am married to a wild, ruthless giant, whom I hope you will one day get to call  _ Afi _ . i do not deny I fell in love with him for his ruthlessness. That did not change when he turned it on me.”

 

And as the candle burned low, and the night wore on, Laufey told Hela a story. He told the story of how he loved the giant who had sired two sons on him, and of how he had met an Aesir who was everything his husband wasn’t. How the fascination had turned to passion, and passion to love. It was as if the ice was cracking after a long, cold winter and the truth was bubbling to the surface. So Laufey told the story, fully this time and not the abbreviated version he had given his youngest son. He tolöd of how he had let himself be seduced by the king of the Aesir, and how he had allowed his heart to be ensnared by him. He admitted quietly that he had wanted to know something different than Farbauti’s brutish strength, and how he ha betrayed everything he was for an intense blue gaze. For there had to be love involved for there to be a child, such was the way of the jotun. And one night had become two, become many, until Laufey was round with a child that should not be. How Farbauti had learned the truth, a truth he was unable to forgive. The rutting with another, perhaps in time, but the child was unmistakable proof that his consort had given his love to another. This was why Farbauti had hated Loki long before his birth. Laufey told the sleeping child he rocked how Farbautis anger and pain had eaten away at Laufey until his heart had broken with it.

Finally, he whispered how he had refused to hold the child after he had been born, and how he had given him the cruelest name he could think of - Loki, meaning “broken”. That he had abandoned his newborn in the snow, hoping he would die.

“But I regretted it” Laufey said quietly with a voice choked with tears, “I hurried back, wanting my child with me, no matter how I would suffer his presence. But he was gone.” He drew a long, shaky breath. “It was many moons before I learned where he was, and with whom. So I gave him up, let him think himself aesir, knowing he was with his father. A good life, better than with me, or so I thought. And I am glad I never held him.”

At long last, the ice shattered and tears started to slip down Laufey’s cold cheeks. “If I had held him” he told his sleeping granddaughter, “I would never have been able to let him go.”

 

* * *

 

The child that Laufey had given up knew nothing of his eadni’s admission, and perhaps it was a good thing he did not. It would probably have been quite difficult for him to be as merry as he was this night, if he had known.

But he was merry. And he danced, with both males and females, drinking too much of sweet vanir wine and telling some very bawdy jokes that had even Freyja blushing. Sif had never seen Loki like this before, and found she liked the change. It wasn’t just the skin, even if that was part of it. No, it was the way he threw his head back and laughed, the way he spoke, how he moved and how gaily he danced with many girls, herself included. 

Eventually, the great bonfire was burning low and many vanir left the feasting place, claiming exhaustion and cold as the winter drew closer and closer with each hour. Soon it would be upon them fully, cold and vicious like an angry frost giant, and in her white feathered gown Sif was starting to feel a bit chilled.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly.

“Need me to keep you warm, beautiful?” A voice teased, warm and rich like brandy. Sif turned around and did a double take. He couldn’t be in Vanaheim, could he? And especially not giving her that kind of appreciative look.

“Thor?” She squeaked. “When did you arrive?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stelpa - girl in icelandic  
> Eadni - mother in nord-saami  
> Afi - grandfather in icelandic  
> Loki - unknown origin, believed to be from the word “leug”, meaning “to break”


	14. Chapter 14

Once Sif had gotten over her shock, and taken a good look at the man giving her an appreciative leer, she could see that he wasn’t Thor. he looked a lot like the prince of Asgard, but was slightly taller and in the firelight she could see that his skin had a soft green tint to it. He also wore a crown seeming to be made from thorned branches, the harsh spikes lending his elegant face a hint of viciousness.

“I am not Thor, I am Leif.” he laughed as he took her hand, “but I can be him for you tonight, if you want.”

Then he dragged her into the still-moving crowd of revellers, and Sif allowed herself to get lost in his arms and his blue eyes, whom were just like Thor’s.

 

* * *

 

Loki was about to leave the fest, wanting to go back to Hela and hold his sleeping babe in his arms. He had enjoyed himself, true, and probably drank more than he ought, but nonetheless he missed her. It was like he was missing a integral part of himself, whenever he was away from her. But as he was about to leave, he saw something that left his heart colder than the deepest parts of Jotunheim.

Thor. Kissing Sif.

Surely he must be mistaken - Thor had promised him eternal love, had sworn him heart and hand. The thunderer would never lie of such a thing, not to Loki. Never lie to Loki, wasn’t that what he had said? The earth disappeared under Loki’s feet, the world screeching to a halt.

His Thor. His own Thor, whom he had never doubted for a moment. 

His Thor, in another’s arms.

It was unbelievable, unbearable, and Loki fled. He needed to get back to his family, his baby and his  _ eadni _ . They loved him, would never betray him. 

He was so lost in his grief he didn’t notice Freyja chasing after him, feeling very cross that she had to leave the party early but unable to stay away when she saw his flight.

He was blind to everything but the image of Thor kissing Sif.

 

* * *

 

Sif was awoken sometime between late night and early morning by someone banging at her door. Whoever it was was clearly angry, and she stumbled from the bed, groped for something to cover herself with, and headed to open it. Just before she reached the door she found Leif’s shirt, and pulled it on. It just barely covered her nude form, making her look small and elfin as she opened the door.

She was faced with a more or less irate Freyja, murder in bright blue eyes.

“Where is he” she hissed, furious.

“Who?” Sif didn’t understand the other goddess’ anger.

“That cheating, lying, selfish piece of  _ trash _ you call prince. Where is he?”

Sif still didn’t understand, but Freyja was not forthcoming with the explanations. She firmly pushed Sif out of the way, storming into the room. 

“Get up you useless bastard!” She screeched at the man who had managed to sleep through the entire debacle.

But at Freyja's fury, not even the horned blond could stay asleep and he sat up, blinking in confusion.

“Freyja” he said when he was a little more awake, “where’s the fire?”

Freyja opened her mouth to deliver what was most likely something vicious, when she stopped cold. Her anger turned to confusion.

“Leif?” She stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“Sleeping” Leif replied dryly, adjusting the blankets to cover his nudity. “With a lovely lass.” He winked at Sif, who blushed.

“But-” Freyja looked in consternation from Leif to Sif and back again.

“I don’t understand?” Sif adjusted the shirt, doing up a few more buttons. 

“Clearly you made the same assumption as I did at the party. That Thor had shown up, unannounced, and was approaching me.”

“Not you too” Leif mock-complained, “we grew up together, and you can’t tell me from the prince of Asgard?” He pouted at Freyja, who rolled her eyes at him.

“Not me” she told Sif, “but Loki saw. And thought what you did.”

Sif paled. Oh norns, Loki had  _ seen _ -

“How did he react?” She asked, worry coiling like a poisonous snake in her stomach. Freyja shook her head.

“As would be expected. He was beside himself.”

Sif felt lost. She had done no wrong, and yet she felt as if she had.

“What do we do?” She finally asked Freyja.

“We do nothing tonight. I finally got him to sleep a little, and I am not waking him to explain this sordid piece of truth. You both… go back to sleep, there is nothing you can do either.” Freyja made a face, turning to leave.

“Freyja” Leif called, sounding amused. “You’re forgetting something.”

Freyja turned back to him, rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry I barged in, all right? I thought you were-”

“A cheating, lying bastard, yes I heard.” Leif’s eyes were twinkling in a way they really had no right to. “Tell Loki I’m sorry about the mix-up. Rumour has it, he’s going to be my half brother-in-law soon enough.”

“He already is your half-brother” Freyja replied, equally amused, before sailing out the door like a queen on her way to deal with some errant followers.

Sif turned to Leif, who was eyeing her with a predatory look on his face.

“I would like an explanation” she said.

“You first, asynja.” He reached for her. “But that can wait.”

“And you can’t?” Sif teased, but went willingly.

 

* * *

 

“Leif?” Loki stammered, not believing Freyja for an instant. He had seen with his own eyes- and now Freyja claimed-

“Leif is our prince, who was away in Midgard when you arrived. He and Sif hit it off.” Freyja shrugged, trying to play things of lightly.

 

“I can explain” Vigdis said as she put Hela down for her mid-morning nap. She looked kindly on the young prince, seeing his puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. It was clear that he had been weeping. She gestured at both the young gods to sit and help themselves to tea and cakes. Freyja did so willingly, but Loki chose to stick to the cakes. He didn’t trust the teapot for an instant.

“Leif is my son” Vigdis said as she poured herself tea, “Odin helped Eirikki and me when we couldn’t conceive.” She chose one of the little leaf-shaped cakes. “Eirikki, you see, is this realm, and in a way it is him. Therefore, he is not a man in the way you think of it. Did you know his name means ‘eternal king’?” 

Loki shook his head, exhausted from the late night. Freyja nodded.

“Vigdis went to Odin and asked him to have a son with her” Freyja explained, stirring honey into her mug, “since Eirikki couldn’t. They had Leif, prince of Vanaheim. Erikki announced him as his heir, thus the name.”

Loki looked at them both blankly.

“It means eternal heir” Vigdis said, shaking her head in amusement. “He thought it was funny.”

“So last night…” Loki began, and Freyja filled in, 

“we both saw Leif. in the firelight we thought it was Thor, since they are very similar. Apparently, all sons of the all-father are tall and blond.”

“Not me” Loki murmured, tugging at his sleeves.

“No, but you are jotun” Vigdis explained. “It matters not what blood your sire has, you are first and foremost jotun. Like Hela. Except she has less jotun blood than you, so she is different.”

Loki looked at the crib, holding the sleeping babe.

“Half jotun, half aesir, belonging to neither.” He whispered, and Freyja wondered if he meant the child or himself.


	15. Chapter 15

Frigga didn’t know how long a time had passed, as she stood staring at the door where the only child to spring from her womb had stormed out, his fury and pain like a slap to her face. Like she had slapped Loki, for what seemed like an eternity ago. Dear, dear Loki, who had not understood, had not deserved her ire. He had never deserved any of it, for he had not asked to be born. 

He was not the first illegitimate child to spring from Odin’s seed, and she suspected he would not be the last. But he was different. She had not seen the others grown up, and none of them had ever called her ‘mother’ or wanted to sit on her lap. Loki had. Loki had stolen her heart within moments of Odin bringing him home, all shame and pleading. Her sweet baby, who had been her own to raise as she saw fit, in an attempt at apology from Odin. 

Odin, who had fallen in love with another. Her legs would not carry her any longer and she sank into a chair by the window.

There was no other way for Loki to exist; she knew the jotun way, found it sweet if a bit odd. No child would come from an union that did not have two lovers.

And her Odin had fathered a child with one of them. Had given what she thought was hers alone to another.  _ A jotun whore. _

The words were like ice against Frigga’s skin. She had thrown them in Loki’s face when he came to her seeking help with a child created from love. The same love, she had thought, that once created him.

But now she knew she had been wrong; it was love that had created him, yes, but not the kind of patient, steadfast love that she had with Odin. That she hoped Loki had found with Thor. 

The love she had, for one horrifying moment, wanted to deny him.

Frigga hid her face in her hands and cried.

 

* * *

 

Thor looked up and as far across the glowing Bifrost as his eyes would let him. It would be quite a trek, but the fastest way to Vanaheim nonetheless. He felt a bit insecure going alone, since it would be the first time in his life he went to another realm without at least the Warriors Three to accompany him. 

But Father had not allowed it, insisting that sending multiple warriors would only make Eirikki suspicious. No, Thor was to go on his own, to find Loki and bring him back to Asgard. 

Then they would be married, Thor thought. He could not imagine life without Loki by his side, their children dancing about them. Because of course there must be many more children, and he would be there for the birth of each and every one. He would be the first to hold them and look into their eyes.

Knowing that Loki had his daughter, a child he had not yet seen, was like a knife to his chest. He wondered what she looked like, their daughter. If she had her mother’s stunning green eyes. He hoped she did; those eyes were the most beautiful thing he had seen in his life, and it would please him greatly to see them look back at him each time his daughter turned her sweet little face up towards him.

“The bridge is ready, sire” Heimdall rumbled, looking as severe as always. But the look in his eyes was fond, and Thor remembered playing at the foot of Bifrost as a little child. One day, he silently promised Heimdall, the ol Aes was going to watch over his and Loki’s children as they played in the grass.

“Thank you” Thor said a bit belatedly, realising that it was expected of him. Heimdall nodded, and Thor adjusted his pack once more.

Then he stepped onto the Bifrost. It crackled with power beneath his feet, and it gave him new determination.

_ Bring them home,  _ Odin had said,  _ your daughter and your brother. Bring them home, so we may see you wed. _

He was going to obey his father. 

And he would do so with a light heart.

 

* * *

 

“My dearest wife” The words were gentle, and they broke into Frigga’s despair like the sun through rain clouds. She lifted her heavy head, blinking away tears.

“Odin” she said, her voice rough with weeping. He knelt before her, taking her hands in his, pressing kisses to her palms like he used to when he was still courting her.

“My dearest wife” he said again, gently. “I have done you a great cruelty.”

She shook her head, not understanding what he meant.

“But I have” he insisted, “I betrayed you. And I made you raise the child that sprung from my betrayal.”

Oh. Loki. He was talking about Loki.

Frigga shook her head again, this time in denial.

“You did not make me do anything. I wanted the babe.” But why had she wanted it, she wondered. Was it to hurt Laufey, like he had hurt her? He had taken something precious from her, something she thought only hers. Had she wanted to take something equally precious from him?

“And you raised him well” Odin praised. “You raised him to a brave, strong, wise soul.” He shook his head fondly. “If a bit… mischievous.”

“Jotun blood” she whispered, “no matter what, he is still… jotun.”

“Aye. So he is. Otherwise that sweet babe would not be.”

“You mean his daughter.” 

Odin stood, choosing instead to pull up a chair so he could sit opposite Frigga.

“Aye, their daughter.”

They sat in silence, Odin’s hands once more covering hers. 

Then he sighed deeply.

“Our Loki” Odin sighed, “so many things would be different if-”

Frigga looked at his hands. Strong and weathered, an old man’s hands.

“I love him as my own.” She said decisively. Then, voice softer, added; “or I thought I did.” her voice sunk to a whisper. “And I still punished him for a crime that was yours.”

“I am so sorry, my dear.” Odin sounded sad, and Frigga could not look at him any more.

“As am I.”

 

* * *

The evening was late when Thor, exhausted from his journey, at last arrived in Vanaheim. He walked on weary feet the short path from the edgeof the Bifrost to where the King’s hall lay, snow crunching beneath his feet. The air was crisp with a winter that had not yet reached Asgard, and Thor wondered if it was true that the King of Vanaheim ruled the seasons of the realm. He hoped to find and speak to Loki soon. His heart ached with being away from him.

As he entered the great Hall, he was met by a matronly woman with dark hair piled high on her head. She wore a worn blue dress, and an apron around her waist. It was only her royal airs that made him understand that this was no maidservant.

“Thor of Asgard” she said gently as she approached. “I am Vigdis, queen of Vanaheim. You must be weary.”

“Loki-” he began, aching to see his brother, his love.

“Loki has retired for the night, and it would not do to wake him or the little one. Come with me, let us have tea.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor and Loki are finally reunited.

There was a knock just as Loki put Hela down for her mid-morning nap. He adjusted the soft furs before going to answer it. 

For a moment, he stood frozen on the threshold, staring at the man on the other side. Thor. His Thor, here in Vanaheim. His eyes could not help but slide over every part of the thunderer, taking in his tired features and unruly hair. His shirt hung slightly looser than normal, hinting at loss of weight. He must not have been eating properly.

“Thor…” Loki breathed, when his eyes at last wandered back to his brother’s face. He had expected disgust, fear, confusion. But he saw none of it. Only recognition and love.

“Loki” Thor cried in joy, and in the next instant he was crushed against his broad chest. Thor’s scent filled his nostrils, leaving him dazed and happy as it always did. If he could bathe in that scent every day for the rest of his life, he would still never tire of it.

“My Loki” Thor whispered into his hair, pressing reverent kisses to the dark locks.

Loki felt hesitant, unsure if Thor would be so joyful once he had been told everything. But the thunderer was faster than him again, staring past him into the room.

“Is that…” he said, voice awed. Loki took his hand, dragging him into the room, over to where Hela slept. Her little face was peaceful, pale fist shoved into her mouth. Her blue hand was stretched out on the other side, and Thor carefully touched it with a finger that was larger than her hand.

“Beautiful” Thor choked, tears starting to slip down his cheeks. Loki wrapped his arms around him. 

“Thor” he sighed happily, seeing the unmistakable joy in Thor’s eyes. 

“She is exquisite, Loki. and so are you.”

“Even like this? I’m blue, Thor. there is no denying my parentage.”

“I care not for who birthed you” Thor insisted. “Only for who you are.”

Loki wanted desperately to believe him, but something in him held back. Perhaps it was the part that still smarted from Frigga’s cruelty.

“We need to talk” Thor said, eventually, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from his daughter.

Loki drew a deep breath. “Not here” he said, “I don’t want to wake her.”

He gestured towards the door, and Thor followed with clear reluctance. Just outside the door, Loki called for one of the young maids dusting the elegant banister.

“Go ask King Laufey to watch over his granddaughter” he ordered, every inch a prince. She curtsied, murmured her consent, and scurried away to do as she was told.

Loki started walking again, leading the way into a beautiful open gallery with large windows all down the side, letting in the sun and the crisp fresh air. When Thor looked out, he could see tall trees covered in pure white snow.

It was beautiful, but nowhere near as to what he had just seen; his daughter, sleeping peacefully on a rabbit fur, surrounded by sharp shards of ice. But even that sight paled at seeing Loki stand beside him, blue skin soft as water, begging for his warmth and his kisses.

 

 

He turned to him fully, taking in his brother in this new, irresistable form. Acres upon acres of soft blue skin, gently pointed ears, sharp teeth, eyes large and brilliant green. Eyes he had grown up loving, eyes he had loved for as long as he could remember. 

 

“It is beautiful” Thor said, not looking at the gardens. Loki, who was staring out over the banister, missed his stare and nodded.

“Very beautiful.”

Thor turned back to the view. “Mother’s gardens pale in comparison” he said, a note of teasing in his voice.

“Thor!” Loki protested, laughing. “Don’t let mother hear you say that!”

“Have no fear, not even I am that foolhardy.”

They fell silent again, content to stand shoulder to shoulder.

“All these years” Thor said thoughtfully, “I have called you brother, the word sour in my mouth.” Loki flinched.

“Thor-” he began, but Thor interrupted.

“Please, Loki, I beg of you to let me speak. Do not harden your heart against me now, not until you have heard what I have to say.”

“Thor…” Loki turned to him, eyes worried. “You never speak like this, what is wrong?” A terrible suspicion raised its ugly head. “Thor… have you had any tea this morning?”

“Two mugs full!” Thor replied. “But that is not important. Loki, don’t you see? I… norns, why is this so hard?” Thor took Loki’s hands in his. “I have planned this a hundred times. Chosen each word with great care and practiced endlessly. And now…” He shook his head, laughing at his own nervousness.

“Do you remember. When we were children. In mother’s gardens.”

“I remember” Loki smiled, thinking back to happier times.

“I plaited you a flower crown. And you kissed me, like mother would kiss father. And you- do you remember-”

Loki remembered. “I promised you that when we grew up, I would be your queen.”

“And now here we are, we are grown!” Thor cried, taking Loki’s hands in his.

“Thor, we were children…” Loki protested, but Thor was not having it.

“But I loved you. And you promised. I gave you my heart, and you swore your hand.”

“We were so young… brothers…”

“And now we are told we are not brothers. And I- I should be bereaved, but - I am elated!”

“But why would you-” Loki tried again to interrupt, but Thor was alight and would not wait for protests.

“Because now, we can wed! Like you promised!”

“What?” Loki couldn’t believe his ears.

“Please, I know you can do better, you deserve so much better than me. But I love you. I have always loved you! Please, Loki - remember the song -  _ jag är öm och trogen, och i dygden mogen -  _ if you will have me-”

Loki bit his lip. Could not resist testing the devotion in front of him.

“And if I will not?” He asked. “What if I want us to once more be brothers?”

“Then-” Thor’s jaw clenched hard enough to make a blood vessel in his neck throb, “then I shall love you as a brother ought. Your will is my only law.”

“And if I want you carnally, but will not have your love?” Wait, what was he  _ saying?  _ Of course he wanted Thor’s love, wanted it more than anything in the world.

“Then I shall never more speak of my devotion to you” Thor looked hurt, like he was close to tears. “Each embrace you permit I shall give you all that I am, and never ask for anything more. Please, Loki, my brother, my love, my one and only, give me -us- a chance. I beg of you, please-”

“Thor… I- I don’t know-”

“Then let me convince you. Please. Prove to you that I will be all you want, all you need. Test me! I shall not falter! One kind glance from you is all I ask.” Thor looked at him with wild, wet, pleading eyes.

“Is it? You begged me to marry you mere moments ago!”

“And I still want nothing more. To be your husband, father of your children. But if you cannot, if you will not-”

“Say it again” Loki begged, still afraid to believe, “say you love me!”

“I love you, Loki. I love you, I love you, I love you, til Ragnarok and beyond!” But still, Loki needed to test him. 

“As my brother, my lover, my husband?” He demanded.

“Yes, yes to all of those!”

“And if I will not have you?” He didn’t know where this cruelty came from, perhaps his jotun side. Perhaps the betrayed son. “If I wed another?”

“Then-” tears glistened in Thor’s eyes, but he was as stubborn as ever. 

“If you chose another, I shall be happy for you. I shall wish you joy, and take pleasure in your happiness, and never more burden you with the depth of my feelings for you. But love you - aye, that I will until my dying breath!”

“And if I want more children?”

“Then I will sire them with joy.” Thor fell to his knees, clutching at Loki’s hands, looking up at him with tears brimming in his beautiful blue eyes.

Loki shook his head fondly.

“Oh Thor. Foolish Thor.” Thor, clearly misunderstanding, shuddered in despair as the tears overflowed, slipping unbidden down his cheeks.

“I understand” he choked, “It is too much to ask of you, I-”

Loki panicked. To see his big, strong, brave brother cry was an impossibility. It mustn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. Thor was too strong to weep.

“No! Thor!” He cried wildly, “That’s not it at all! Thor, you do not need to ask anything of me! I am yours, with all that I am, I always have been!”

“Truly?” Thor looked up at him in disbelief, tears still slipping down his cheeks.

“Since the day you put a wreath of flowers in in my hair and said you’d marry me someday.” 

Thor’s grief turned to joy, as he stood up and swept Loki up into his arms, twirling him around as he laughed with joy.

“Then let someday be today!” He cried.

“Today?” Loki protested, he too laughing.

“Aye! Today! Let us not wait any longer, my own love. I cannot bear it!”

“Mother and father will be furious.” Loki protested, laughing as Thor kissed his eyelashes.

“Let them! I care not! Come, let us wed!”

“Kiss me first, you oaf!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're not done yet... still loose ends to tie up! :)


	17. The End

Eirikki was still in his nightclothes when Thor dragged Loki into the royal bedroom, both of them wild with joy and excitement. Loki managed to explain why they were there while dodging kisses from Thor. He did not dodge all of them, however, and so his question was rather fractured and dazed.

“Of course I’ll officiate” Eirikki beamed as he pulled his breeches on. “Vigdis, my darling-”

“Have no fear, dearest, I will arrange everything. But I need… oh, fifteen minutes or so.”

Thor and Loki were too busy staring adoringly at each other to notice the bustle around them, which was probably a good thing since both the King and Queen of Vanaheim needed to actually dress for the day.

 

Once she had more than her shift on, Vigdis made quick work of sending for the people she considered ought to be present. Which meant Freyja, Sif, and King Laufey. Everyone else could darn well wait, in her opinion.

 

They gathered the little wedding party in King Eirikki’s grand hall, and it took a bit of yelling from the King before the people who had gathered for court left. Once everyone had left and the doors had been locked, Freyja could no longer keep quiet.

“Why are we here?” She asked, a bit cross at having been awoken by a frantic maid yelling that the King was requesting her presence instantly.

Loki beamed at her consternation.

“My wedding!” He told her happily. Freyja blinked a few times.

“You- your wedding?” She squeaked. “And I get to be present?”

“As my witness!” Loki beamed and Freyja promptly started to cry.

“I’m so honored” she sobbed, making quite a mess of herself.

Loki ignored her blubbering, instead turned back to Eirikki, beaming almost as much as Thor.

“Everyone is here” he said, “get on with it!”

Eirikki, with great reluctance, stopped cooing over little Hela and got on with it.

“Dear friends and family-” he began and got a glare from Thor. apparently, that was unnecessary. Eirikki sighed. He simply could not win, no matter what he did.

“Thor” he said instead, “Do you take Loki as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Yes!”

“Loki, do you take Thor as your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Yes!”

“Then in the name of myself and by the power I am bestowed as king I pronounce you married, you may ki-”

But neither Loki or Thor were listening anymore, too busy kissing each other senseless as Freyja sobbed and Hela fussed in Laufey’s arms.

 

* * *

 

Later, once the kissing had lulled a bit and Thor could be convinced to let go of Loki, they went over to see their little girl who was most displeased at her daddies having ignored her for as long as they had.

“There there, sweet one” Thor rumbled, stroking her tiny cheek with a heavy hand.

“She missed her _eadni_ ” Laufey explained as he put the fussy baby in Loki’s arms. Loki smiled at his daughter, who immediately seemed to calm, then looked up at Laufey with serious eyes.

“So did I” he said quietly, “for a very, very long time.”

For a moment it looked as it Laufey might cry, but he drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Then he turned to Thor, who was making cooing noises at a happily gurgling baby.

“You take good care of my kin, thunderer” he ordered brusquely, “or you will make an enemy out of me and mine.”

Thor paled slightly, then straightened his back.

“I will love them as they deserve” he promised solemnly.

“Good.” Laufey nodded.

 

* * *

 

It was almost three days before Loki considered Hela ready to travel. And it was only once he had ensured that the ice-filled crib would survive the journey and the ice would not melt once. It helped that Freyr lent them Skidbladnir, the journey taking them from a full day and part of the night down to a few hours.

“Are you sure you want to return?” Freyja asked anxiously as she came to see them off.

“It’s my home” Loki replied as he hugged her. “Thank you for everything.”

“You are my friend. Of course I’ll be there for you.” She kissed Hela. “And I expect to be asked to do a _lot_ of baby-sitting.”

“I’ll hold you to that” Loki laughed as he turned to look once more at Thor, who was striding across the deck like a golden statue come to life.

“Loki, you lucky bastard” Freyja sighed as she admired the sun shining on his blond hair.

“Dearest” Thor said as he put his arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Let us go home.”

“Aye” Loki smiled, “let us go home.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was early evening when the little at last arrived in Asgard, and Hela was just waking up when they descended onto Asgardian soil. Her happy gurgles were a sweeter melody than the music they heard in the distance, and the light in her eyes was fairer than any of the lovely sights of Asgard.

_ No matter what happens,  _ Loki thought,  _ I have what truly matters in my arms.  _

And it was with his daughter in his arms and Thor’s arm around his waist he entered the great hall of Asgard to face once more the people he had always known as his parents.

Odin was the first to speak, as he stood from his throne and came towards them.

“Loki” he said, taking in the thick brace on Loki’s arm, shining with vanir power. Eirikki had made it for him, and it created a glamour that had Loki looking once more as he always had.

“Until you are comfortable in your own skin” the king had smiled at him as he handed it over. “Think of it as a wedding gift from the vanir.”

“Welcome home” Odin continued, holding out his hands as if wanting to embrace his lost child and unknown grandchild. 

Loki hesitated, looked at Frigga who stood pale and lost just behind her husband. Her eyes were pleading, but she did not speak.

_ Forgive me,  _ her eyes begged.

Loki looked down at his daughter, sucking at her fist, green eyes shining. Then he looked back at the woman whom he still loved as a mother.

“I need time” he said quietly, and Frigga shrank back, sad but understanding. 

Thor’s arm was so warm around Loki’s waist, his body pressing close to Loki’s in silent comfort.

It made Loki brave, and he placed the most precious thing he had in her grandfather’s large hands.

They cradled little Hela impossibly gently as the Allfather held the babe to his chest. Her little hand curled around his beard and she gurgled with laughter.

“Her name is Hela” Loki said, both a statement and a peace offering. Frigga leaned forward to catch a glimpse.

Odin stared down at the babe like he was observing a miracle.

“Hela?” He asked quietly, clasping her to his chest and rocking gently.

“It’s jotun…” Loki replied in the same tone, “It means  _ Light _ .”

 

_. Fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is going to be a sequel. I promise.  
> But not until college is done kicking my ass, and that will most likely be sometime in June. 
> 
> A ton of love for everyone who has (and will) read, kudos, comment, etc. You have no idea how much you mean to me.


End file.
